


Hero Worship

by LarasLandlockedBlues



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Author loves to chat in the Comments, Blow Jobs, Casual Relationship, Casual Sex, Dom Hawke, Dom/sub, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, From Sex to Love, Hawke & Varric Tethras Friendship, Hawke and the Inquisitor, Hero Worship, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, I think we all wanted to romance our Hawke, Loud Sex, Masturbation, No Slow Burn Here, Oral Sex, POV Male Hawke, POV Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Past Relationship(s), Porn with Feelings, Purple Hawke, Rough Sex, Sarcastic Hawke, Sassy Inquisitor, Sexy Hawke, Shameless Smut, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, The Author Regrets Nothing, or was that just me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-01-27 20:37:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 83,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12590080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarasLandlockedBlues/pseuds/LarasLandlockedBlues
Summary: The Inquisitor can't seem to think straight around the heroic and devilishly handsome Champion of Kirkwall. And he doesn't make it any easier on her when he unexpectedly invites her to his room one night.And what starts off as a fling turns into a whirlwind romance neither one of them is prepared for.Shameless, shameless smut. What began as a one shot has evolved into a full work of mostly smut with a few dashes of angst and fluff for good measure.Eventual happy ending. All in good time, dear readers.





	1. Hero Worship

**Author's Note:**

> Just a fun one off idea I had and sat down to write while drunk and bored. This was meant to be a one shot but...it's evolved.

The Inquisitor grumbled to herself as she tried to get the rest of her satchel packed. They were leaving the next morning at sunrise, and the idea of trying to wake up earlier than that to grab her things was less than ideal. She hated mornings, and hated how often she had to drag her ass out of bed to run off to save Thedas. The thought of leaving her soft, warm bed in the morning already filled her with dread, and she began to try to shove the canvas tent into her pack more vigorously in her frustration.

After several moments struggling she threw her head back on her shoulders with a deep sigh. “How in Thedas is this ever supposed to fit?” she muttered to herself.

“You know, if I had a sovereign for every time I’ve heard that,” a deep voice said from behind her, and she spun around to see the Champion of Kirkwall leaning against the wall behind her. His arms were crossed and he was regarding her with his usual smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Champion,” she greeted, feeling her heart race a little and cursing her sudden nervousness. They hadn’t spoken since they came back from Crestwood with the Warden Stroud, but she had tripped over her words and made a fool of herself every time they had spoken since they met. She had heard all of the Tales of the Champion, had listened to Varric talk about the heroic Garrett Hawke, and she found herself turning into a bumbling mess every time she was around him.

He would be incredibly intimidating to her just from his accomplishments and the stories alone, but he also happened to be an incredibly attractive man as well. His messy black hair fell into his eyes and lent him a relaxed, roguish quality. His eyes were bright blue, reminding her a bit of sapphires, and they were constantly sparkling with humor. The heavy layer of black stubble that covered his jaw only helped to emphasize its strong, angular shape. Even if he weren’t the Great Champion of Kirkwall, she would probably still find herself tripping over flat surfaces and stuttering in his presence. The combination of his title and good looks, though, was enough to make her as tongue-tied as a young maid suffering from her very first infatuation.

“Please, _Inquisitor_ , you don’t have to call me Champion,” he said, emphasizing her title and quirking an eyebrow at her. “Hawke works just fine. Although if you really wanted, you could call me Garrett. Maybe later, when you come by my room.”

Her eyes widened as she stared at him, unsure if she’d heard him correctly. “Y-your room?” she stammered.

“Yes, your Ambassador seemed to think one of the tower rooms would suit me. The one near the tavern, one past your dreary Commander’s office.” He was still leaning so casually against the wall, watching her as he spoke.

“Did you have matters you wanted to speak with me about?” she asked, hating how shaky her voice sounded. She had to be reading too much into this, had to be misunderstanding his meaning. Surely he just wanted to discuss Crestwood, or the Inquisition, or the Wardens, or –

“I’m not sure how much talking we’ll get done,” he drawled, interrupting her thoughts, the smirk still on his face. He gave her a slow up and down appraisal and her heart began to race. “After all, we leave at dawn and there’s much better ways to spend the time until then than talking. Wouldn’t you say?”

Her heart was positively hammering against her rib cage. She couldn’t believe it; Hawke, the dashing Champion of Kirkwall, was propositioning her. She was speechless, unable to respond. He was always teasing, he and Varric had been relentless while they were in Crestwood and on the way back. He had to be having her on, he had to be pulling a prank.

“Unless you’d rather not,” he frowned when she still didn’t respond. “I just thought maybe, from the way you always seem to flirt with me -”

“Flirt?” she interrupted, her brow furrowed. She wasn’t sure she would call her clumsy discussions with him flirting, at least not the usually smooth flirting she had always managed in the past. If she was honest with herself, though, she _had_ been trying to flirt with him, if only because he was so handsome she couldn’t help herself.

“Is that not what you were doing when you were asking me questions about my staff?” he quipped, and she felt herself turn crimson as he chuckled at her.

“I -” she began, but couldn’t find the words in her embarrassment. Her cheeks were hot, and she wished a rift would open above her and swallow her up.

He finally pushed himself away from where he leaned against the wall and slowly stalked forward until he stood before her. “Who knew the Inquisitor could blush so much,” he teased.

She had to crane her neck to look at him when he stood this close, considering their height difference. Her lips went suddenly dry when she saw the suggestive gleam in his eyes, and she ran her tongue over them to try to alleviate the feeling. His eyes flicked down to watch her do so, and he raised an eyebrow at her again.

Before she could think of a response to his teasing or his question, he bent down and pressed his lips to hers, stifling her surprised gasp as he did so. He slanted his mouth against hers and slid his tongue between her lips as he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her full against him. She was so surprised for a moment, so taken aback that the Champion of Kirkwall was kissing her, that she stood stiff as a board in his grip. But then her body began to respond to the tantalizing sensations his kiss was creating in her, and she leaned against him, her hands gripping his muscular arms to steady herself as her knees suddenly went weak.

He kissed her for several long moments, his tongue sliding against hers in a suggestive rhythm until she felt light-headed. He raised his head at last and stared down at her, the smirk returning to his lips. “I thought so,” he said.

“You thought what?” she asked, breathless.

“I thought you wanted me,” he answered, and he released her just as abruptly as he’d kissed her. “My room, this evening. Inquisitor.”

And with that he turned and left her staring after him, her head spinning after what had just happened.

 

* * *

 

She couldn’t believe she was even considering actually going. She couldn’t believe her feet had already carried her to the stairs onto the battlements leading to the tower. A voice in her head was begging her to turn around and seek out her solitary bed, certain that she was only going to embarrass herself. Part of her was convinced she was walking into a trap, that she was going to open the door to his tower room and Varric and he were going to be sitting waiting for her, ready to laugh at the prank they had pulled on her. But the way he’d kissed her made her feel like he really meant it, that he really did want her to come to his room. It had been so long since she’d had sex, and the idea of _him_ of all people doing things to her compelled her to keep walking. If she retired to her room, she was only setting herself up for a sleepless night as she tossed and turned and continued to picture him out of his armor.

She reached his door and hesitated, taking a deep breath to steady herself. If this was a prank, she was going to find a way to enlist Cassandra’s help to punish Hawke and Varric. But if it wasn’t, she only hoped she didn’t say or do anything to embarrass herself. With one last deep breath, she knocked lightly on the door.

“Come in,” his deep voice called. She slowly opened the door, her body tensed as she again found herself expecting to be greeted with laughter. Instead, she was greeted by silence and the sight of Hawke lounging on his bed, only wearing his leather breeches. He set down the book he’d been reading and looked at her expectantly. She stopped inside the doorway as she stared at his bare chest, the sight even better than she had imagined and momentarily causing her to freeze in her tracks. “Ah, _my lady_ , I was beginning to worry you weren’t going to come.” He smirked.

She stood stupidly in the door for a few more moments before she finally shook herself a little and entered the room, shutting the door behind her. She cleared her throat, trying to think of something to say, but found she couldn’t think of anything.

"Are you planning on standing there all night?” he asked, and he reached over and patted the empty side of the bed.

She took another deep breath, trying to hide the shivers that were running through her body as she walked over and sat on the edge. He watched her approach, the suggestive smirk never leaving his lips. She was perching on the side of the bed, too nervous to get on it fully, scared that this was still somehow a cruel joke.

Hawke regarded her carefully for a moment before he pushed himself into a sitting position and leaned toward her. Without a word he reached one hand to the buttons of her top and undid the first two at her neck. He stopped and looked at her, waiting to see if she told him to stop. When she only managed to open and close her mouth before she gave a jerky nod of permission, he smirked and continued slowly unbuttoning the rest of them. “I know I said we wouldn’t do much talking, but you can talk a little,” he teased lightly as he worked on undoing her top.

“I’m sorry, I – I keep expecting this to be a joke,” she admitted, and hated that she did.

He stopped his careful work on her top and stared at her for a moment. The smirk was gone from his face, instead replaced by a deep twinkling in his blue eyes. “Trust me, this is no joke,” he murmured, and he pressed a kiss to her lips, followed quickly by another. “You’re a beautiful woman, Inquisitor. Plus I’ve always had a weakness for brunettes with beautiful tits.” He glanced appreciatively at her chest as he made the comment.

"Mara,” she said suddenly as he leaned closer to kiss her once more. “It’s Mara, not Inquisitor.”

The smirk returned to his face and he whispered, “No, it’s Inquisitor,” and he popped the last button on her top as he undid it. “And now, Inquisitor, the Champion would like for you to remove the rest of your clothes.”

Her heart sped up and she took a shaky breath before she stood from the bed to slide the top he’d undone from her shoulders. He watched as she fumbled with the laces on her breeches and took them off, bending to slide off her boots first, but she hesitated before she took off her smallclothes, suddenly feeling exposed and unsure.

“All of them, please, my lady,” he prompted her, his eyes gleaming as he said it.

She hooked her fingers in the waist of her smallclothes and finally pushed them down her thighs. He watched their progress intently before he slowly ran his gaze over her whole body and raised his eyes to hers once more.

“Come here,” he crooked a finger and reclined back on the pillows.

She knelt on the bed and crawled toward him. The way that he’d looked her over was giving her more confidence. She felt herself becoming more comfortable now that she’d seen the stark desire in the blue depths of his eyes. This wasn’t her first time, she didn’t need to be shaking like a leaf with nervous excitement. And yet she was, because the look in his eyes was so delicious, the need so obvious as she placed her hands on the bed over his shoulders, positioning herself above him. He lay back on the pillows and looked up at her, his nearly-permanent smirk looking more seductive than ever. She leaned down and kissed him, finally self-assured enough to take the initiative.

The kiss went on and on, lips twisting against each other, tongues wrestling sloppily as they tried to taste each other. She was still on her knees as she leaned down to kiss him and he suddenly wrapped an arm around her and toppled her over. He rolled her easily until he was on top of her without breaking their kiss. Running his hands over her, he finally began caressing her skin and exploring her naked flesh at his leisure. She dragged her fingers over his back, digging her nails into his rippling muscles when he roughly gripped her breasts in eager haste.

She finally pulled back from his kiss and smiled at him. "I think you're a little overdressed, Champion," she mused and she snapped the waist of his breeches with a finger.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Nice to see you coming out of your shell, Inquisitor," he teased. With a fleeting kiss he stood from the bed and undid the laces of his breeches quickly before he pushed them down and released his hard cock. She felt her eyes widen a little when she saw it; it was larger and more perfect than she'd hoped it would be.

She rolled over on the bed to get back on her hands and knees and crawled over toward him. If this was really happening she had something she'd wanted to do since she first laid eyes on him. He watched her approach eagerly, and remained still where he stood beside the edge of the bed.

She looked up at him from where she knelt and opened her mouth, slowly taking the tip of his cock between her lips without using her hands. His eyelids fluttered shut for a moment and he moaned as she sucked at him and ran her tongue over the small slit on the end. She kept her eyes fixed on his face, and when he opened his eyes again to look down at her she began to bob her head, taking more of him into her mouth each time she did.

He moaned again, more deeply than before, and thrust lightly into her, trying to get himself further down her throat. He slipped his fingers into her loose brown waves and twisted his fist in the strands, tugging gently to guide her rhythm as she took him in and out of her mouth. She let him direct her as he lightly fucked her throat, and she moaned around him, feeling herself getting even wetter when she saw the way his brow furrowed sharply in response.

“Fuck,” he murmured, “you’re quite good at this for a lady.” She slid her mouth back to his tip and sucked hard, feeling a small bead of salty excitement leak out of the small slit as she ran her tongue along it. He pulled her head back by her hair and an obscene popping noise accompanied the action as his cock fell out of her mouth. He still held her hair and stared down at her face for a long moment. “I suppose I should be a gentleman and return the favor.”

He released her hair and gestured for her to get back on the pillows. She reclined on her back and he crawled over her on the bed, holding himself above her but leaning down to give her a deep kiss. He released her lips and began to leave a trail of kisses down her neck, pausing to flick both of her nipples with his tongue before he continued lower. He hooked his hands on her thighs and pulled them apart, and without teasing her any or leading up to it at all, he buried his face between her legs and began stroking her slit with his tongue. He ran his tongue several times from the bottom to the top before he settled on her clit and swirled his tongue around it.

She gasped and moaned, feeling lightheaded. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt someone’s tongue and hot breath on her, and she already felt close to coming. He reached one hand up to her breast and began caressing it, and his other he used to slide two fingers into her, so suddenly that she cried out and her body convulsed. So much was happening her mind was spinning; the pressure of his hand on her breast, his fingers exciting her nipples, his tongue sliding in a torturous rhythm against her clit, and his two fingers pumping in and out of her was overwhelming. After only a few moments of not knowing what she should or even could focus on, she felt herself come and cried out, so loudly she was sure the soldiers patrolling the battlements had to be able to hear her.

When she finished he sat back on his heels and looked down at her as he wiped his chin, his usual smirk holding a hint of smugness to it. He positioned her legs a little wider and took his cock in his hand, stroking himself a few times as he watched her trying to regain her senses. She fluttered her eyelashes a few times and then stared up at him. He locked eyes with her and rubbed the tip of his cock up and down her slit. “Is this what you’ve wanted, Inquisitor?” he teased, and he grinned when her body jerked when he rubbed himself against her sensitive clit. She moaned and nodded enthusiastically. “One condition, my lady.”

She frowned at him. “What’s that?”

“I want you to be as loud as you can be,” he told her. “I’m not sure everyone heard you the first time, and I want everyone to know that the Inquisitor is being fucked by the Champion of Kirkwall.”

She bit her lip and moaned again, then gasped, “yes!” as he slid himself into her. She could tell he met with a little resistance and she tried to shift her hips to help him; she couldn’t remember how long it had been for her and she took a moment to adjust herself to his size.

“Fuck you’re tight,” he groaned, and he took a moment as well before he gripped her hips and began thrusting into her. She moaned with each of his movements, her nerves already so excited from her first orgasm only moments before. He pushed himself into her as deeply as he could, each thrust making his balls slap against her ass with the satisfying sound of flesh hitting flesh. She jerked her hips against his to meet his quick rhythm and he moaned in response to her enthusiasm. It was hard, fast, and he placed a finger on her clit to brush it as she moved against him. She cried out as she felt herself pushed closer to the edge. “Louder,” he ordered her, and she let herself moan and whimper as loudly as she could.

Her second orgasm hit her powerfully and she nearly screamed as her own rhythm became erratic as she arched her back and felt her mind go blank. “H-Hawke!” she gasped, and she noticed he stopped thrusting for a moment as she came against him. When she finished she went limp and tried to catch her breath. He was smirking down at her.

“Wrong name, and not loud enough,” he scolded her playfully. “I’m not sure even the pious Commander could hear that. Pitiful.”

He pulled himself from her, and with his strong hands rolled her on to her stomach and pulled her hips up so that he could push back into her. She eagerly propped herself up on her elbows and angled her hips so that he had better access. He thrust himself back into her and tangled his hand into her hair, pulling her head back as he leaned over her so he could whisper into her ear. “Remember, Mara- loudly, if you’d be so kind.”

He straightened and picked up his pace, thrusting even deeper and harder into her in this position. He didn’t need to remind her again, as this angle and his relentless rhythm made her cry out with each of his thrusts. The sounds she was making seemed to encourage him even more, and soon the noises of their bodies slamming into one another and her cries were loud enough that all of Skyhold had to be able to hear them and know exactly what was happening. As if to reward her for her noise, he reached a hand around to the front of her and again stroked her oversensitive clit. It wasn’t long before she felt her mind go black as she came for the third time, and this time she positively screamed, “Yes, _Garrett_!”

With a cry of triumph he pounded himself into her a few more times and then went deep, not pulling himself out as he groaned loudly and came within her. She bit her lip and moaned as she felt him fill her, trying not to blurt out that that was exactly what she’d wanted him to do. He gave a few more light thrusts as he came down from his own intense orgasm, and then he pulled himself from her. She felt his release slide down her thighs and collapsed onto her stomach, panting and trying to catch her breath. He flung himself on the bed beside her, lying on his back with his eyes closed as he panted heavily.

After several minutes lying next to one another trying to regain their senses, he turned to look at her with the smirk once more on his face. “What do you say for round two you try to make me wake up the entire keep?”


	2. Wanting More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that she knows what he's like, the Inquisitor can't get the Champion out of her system. And it turns out she's not the only one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I did the other chapter as a one shot originally, but I can't help it - I love this pairing, they're so much fun to write. Even in the sober light of day, I can't get enough of them. This is quickly turning into a smutty series focusing on the casual to eventually something more relationship between the Inquisitor and the Champion.

The trip to the Western Approach went smoothly, with no mishaps and nothing to delay them. At camp at night they sat around the fire, Varric and Hawke making most of the conversation as the others sat and listened to their stories and banter. The pair still frequently joked with Mara, and she noticed a new gleam in Hawke’s eyes as he did so. She wasn’t quite sure what to think of the renewed teasing after what had happened between them. She was able to brush it off easily sometimes, no longer as shy and awkward in his presence now that she had such concrete proof that he found her just as attractive as she found him. But sometimes the intensity in his eyes as he teased her caught her off guard and she felt flustered once more under the twinkling sapphire gaze.

He made no move to pursue her again as they camped along the way, and she began to assume that it was just what it had seemed to be; a night of casual fun, the release of sexual tension and mutual attraction. She was fine with that, considering casual encounters were all she had experience with. But she also wondered if there would ever be a repeat of the night, if only because it had been so sinfully delicious she would readily welcome another opportunity to enjoy him.

After several days of traveling they finally reached the Western Approach and set up camp not far from the ritual tower Stroud had tracked the Grey Wardens to. It was late, and they quickly scouted the area before they settled in for the night. Before she retired, Mara walked away from camp and looked out across the sandy expanse between them and the tower, nervous about what they would find there tomorrow.

“Finally, I’ve got you alone,” a deep voice said from behind her. Before she could respond she felt hands around her waist, spinning her to face the Champion as he crushed his lips against hers. He was kissing her greedily, and her senses reeled under his sudden passion. After several long minutes she finally got a hold of herself and pushed lightly against his chest to break the kiss.

“Hawke, please, someone will see,” she murmured, and she noticed her voice was already breathless. She felt her knees weaken, feeling overwhelmed by just a kiss – but he was a damn good kisser.

He was smirking at her as if he knew how much she had enjoyed his sudden embrace, and she longed to wipe the stupid knowing grin off his face. “I’m sure they all heard you the other night when you woke up all of Skyhold, Inquisitor, what’s the harm in them seeing it now, too?”

She shook her head and tried to step away from him, but he tightened his arms around her back. “Not here,” she said.

“’Not here?’” he repeated, his eyes twinkling as his smirk grew wider. “But not - ‘not ever again?’”

“I just don’t want to be seen,” she said and he finally released her when she tried to step back once more.

“Good, I was hoping you would want to again,” he wiggled his eyebrows at her as he inferred what she had meant with her insistence that she just didn’t want to be seen. “After all, I seem to recall you greatly enjoyed it. Seven times, wasn’t it? There was three the first time, two the second, and then the two after you woke me up with your mouth -”

“Yes, yes, all right?” she cut him off, looking to make sure no one was around. He wasn’t bothering to lower his voice, and he smirked at her as she felt herself blush. It had been seven times, he was right, and she was almost surprised that he remembered the number of her orgasms so clearly. She knew that she certainly remembered each instance vividly; they’d been all she could think about every night in her lonely tent since their journey had begun.

“Well, if you just don’t want to be seen, I suppose I can wait to try to break our record a bit longer,” he gave an exaggerated sigh. “I think next time we could easily reach nine, don’t you?”

She felt her cheeks heat more intensely than before and her breathing quickened. He didn’t just want it to be the one time, after all. He made it seem like he’d been waiting for her to wander off from camp alone in order to pursue her again. The ideas his words were conjuring made her wonder what he would have done if she hadn’t insisted they might be seen. She shook herself mentally and cleared her throat. She had thought she was past feeling like such a mess of nerves every time he was near, but now it seemed like it was actually worse than before he’d invited her to his room.

“Yes, well, I uh – I should go, we have a big day tomorrow,” she stammered and she jerked her head in a brief good night and walked away from him. As she pushed past him he turned and watched her go, and she could feel his eyes on her the whole way back to her tent.

Once in her tent she stripped out of her armor, her hands a little shaky as she fumbled with the fastenings. The way he’d kissed her had excited her to no end, and she wished that they hadn’t been so near to camp. Just as she had every night of their journey, she got into her sleeping mat in only her smallclothes, thinking about what had happened the night before they left. She felt hot and wet between her legs just at the memories, and bit her bottom lip as she squeezed her thighs together at the feeling between them, trying to emphasize the throbbing she felt there. Before he’d invited her to his room she’d laid awake frequently at night wondering what it would be like with him. Now that she knew, she laid awake instead remembering that it had been even better than her fantasies.

She was overwhelmed with renewed desire and slowly slid her hand down her flat stomach to the waist of her smallclothes and slipped inside. Her finger would be a poor substitute for all of the things he had done to her and could do to her, but she couldn’t resist the urge. She slowly slid her finger in a circle around her clit, teasing herself lightly before she actually began to stroke it with a fingertip. She closed her eyes and remembered the sight of him above her, the feeling of him within her. She continued playing with herself and she began to roll her hips as though responding to his thrusts, trying to recreate the memory.

A shadow approached the flaps of her tent and they suddenly opened and shut quickly as a tall, broad figure slipped inside. She hastily removed her hand from her smallclothes and sat up with a gasp, trying to see through the darkness. “Who -” she began, but the figure quickly knelt beside her and put a finger over her lips.

“Hush, Inquisitor, I thought you didn’t want to get caught,” Hawke whispered playfully. He stood again and quickly removed his breeches, which appeared to be all he was wearing, before he pulled the cover open on her sleeping mat. He pushed her back by the shoulders and lay on top of her.

“Hawke, what are you doing?” she asked quietly, and despite the scolding surprise in her voice she felt her heart beating in excited anticipation. She had gotten herself close with her finger and her memories, but now here he was, lying on top of her and hastily removing her smallclothes.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he murmured and pressed his lips to hers. “I’m making sure we aren’t seen.”

She moaned as he slid his hands over her breasts, pinching her nipples as he kissed her deeply. He ran one hand down her stomach and pulled one of her thighs wide, nudging the other aside with his knee to spread her legs. He lay in between them and slid his hand along the inside of her thigh to her slit and stroked between her lips.

“You’re so wet, already,” he moaned and he easily pushed two fingers inside of her. “Wait – were you playing with yourself?”

“I -” she began, but found she couldn’t admit to it for some reason. She couldn’t decide if she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing or if she was embarrassed he had caught her.

“Were you thinking about me, you little minx?” he asked and he tugged her lip between his teeth as he continued thrusting his fingers into her. “Answer me, Mara.”

“Yes, I was,” she whispered, gasping slightly at the feeling of his fingers within her.

“Were you thinking about how much you want me again?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me what you want,” he prompted her, his fingers still stroking her until she felt lightheaded and her limbs began to quake as pleasure spread through her.

“Please, Hawke, I want you to fuck me,” she gasped.

“We’ve been over this – when we’re in bed, it’s Garrett,” he scolded her lightly. “Understood?”

“Yes, Garrett,” she breathed. “Please, Garrett – fuck me, I want you to fuck me.”

He pressed a fierce kiss to her lips and pulled his fingers from her, creating an empty ache in her belly as he withdrew them. She wanted to be filled by him, and luckily she didn’t have to wait long before he positioned himself at her opening with his hand and slid himself inside her. She moaned and bit her lower lip to try to stifle the sound as her forehead snapped forward against his collar bone.

He propped himself with one elbow above her shoulder and held one of her thighs wide with his other as he began thrusting into her. He groaned a little as he pushed deeper into her and took up a sloppy kiss again. She reached down and cupped his rear, encouraging him to stay as deep as he could as she rolled her hips to respond to his rhythm. He broke away from the kiss with a soft moan. “You feel amazing, Mara,” he told her huskily. “You’d gotten yourself close, hadn’t you? I can tell, you’re as wet as a depraved little whore.”

She gave a small whimper and she could tell he was smirking above her as he watched her face. He was right, she already felt pushed to the edge. The way that he was laying on top of her was making him brush against her swollen clit with each of his thrusts. He kissed her again and she twisted her mouth eagerly against his, enjoying the way they were so wrapped around each other, glued together by their mouths and him thrusting deeply in between her legs.

“Are you going to come for me?” he murmured against her lips.

“Yes,” she breathed, and he jerked his hips more forcefully into her. The suctioning sounds of wet flesh echoed around them with each of his thrusts but she found she didn’t care as she felt the edges of her consciousness fade away. She moaned his name and he firmly pressed his lips against hers to stifle the other noises she began to make as she came. As he pushed his tongue into her mouth she felt him shudder a little and the rhythm of his thrusts changed as he pushed as deep as he could go. She felt his hot seed pour into her as he finished with her, and after several long moments he again gave a few light thrusts before he broke their kiss and rested his forehead against her collar bone. She was beginning to learn that was how he always finished; hard and deep inside her, pushing as far as he could for what felt like too long, and then as he came down he gave a few more light thrusts to enjoy the last small shockwaves as they came.

“Fuck, Mara,” he groaned against her chest. “I never thought someone who goes by 'the Inquisitor' would be so good at fucking. I feel like I can’t get enough of it.”

She bit her lip and smiled to herself, glad he wasn’t looking at her face at the moment. “You’re not too bad yourself, Champion,” she finally answered softly.

“Garrett,” he corrected in a sleepy whisper. “I’m inside you – it’s Garrett.”

“Are you falling asleep?” she asked and tried to peer down into his face. He was still lying on top of her, almost suffocating her with his weight, and his softening cock was still inside her. His forehead was pressed to her collar bone as he began to breathe deeply. “Garrett, are you awake?”

“Shut up, Mara, I’m trying to fall asleep,” he teased in a mumbling, slow tone.

“Damn it, Garrett, at least get off me first,” she muttered and tried to push him off her chest.

He heaved an exaggerated sigh and rolled off of her, finally withdrawing his cock from inside her so that she could feel the overflow of his release spill out of her. He lay on his side and wrapped an arm around her to pull her back snugly against him, his hand holding on to her breast as he got settled.

“Such amazing tits, too,” he murmured, trying to pull her back even closer to him and squeezing the breast he held. “Mmmm…good night, Mara. Wake me up later and maybe we’ll go for two more. Or I’ll wake you up and we’ll go for three.”

He trailed off and she noticed his breathing deepened. She cuddled back against him, enjoying the feeling of his hot skin behind her. She didn’t worry about the fact that they were in camp, instead feeling incredibly contented and suddenly exhausted. She’d been restless the last few nights thinking about him, and slumber finally overwhelmed her now that her urgent desire for him had been sated once more.


	3. Morning Glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor and the Champion are not morning people.

“Mara,” a deep voice whispered near her face. “Maaaaara. Mara. Wake up.”

She opened her eyes slowly and became aware of a presence looming close over her and hot skin pressed against hers. It took her a moment in her usual lethargic grogginess to recognize Hawke’s bearded face above hers.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he murmured. “We slept in. Everyone else is awake.”

Her eyes widened and she looked around the tent to realize that it was lit much brighter than it should be. “Shiiiit,” she moaned, and clapped a hand over her eyes.

“On the bright side, I’m hard and I can feel you’re ready – were you having a dream about me, pet?” he purred and she realized she could feel his finger sliding along her slit and teasing her entrance, which was wet and throbbing in anticipation. “They’re going to see me leave anyway – care for some morning glory before I do?”

He leaned down and lightly nibbled her earlobe as his finger continued stroking her and he dipped it into her wet entrance briefly, making her moan.

“Hawke -”

“Garrett.”

“We shouldn’t,” she sighed.

Hawke smirked at her and continued sliding his finger into her to tease her, only letting it go so far before he pulled it out again and repeated the motion. “They’re going to see me and speculate wildly anyway, we could at least give them something to speculate on.”

She opened her mouth to respond and he suddenly captured her lips with his, twisting against her as his tongue slid in to taste hers. She hesitated for a moment and then wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his face more closely against hers. In her sleepy daze she forgot about consequences. She thought only of the dreams she had, in fact, been having of him and the way he’d felt inside her the night before.

He rolled on top of her and she circled his hips with her long legs, pulling him down to her. His finger was still sliding up and down in between her lips as he thrust lightly with his hips to find her entrance with his erection without using his hand. He finally positioned himself at her opening and pushed inside in one fluid motion and she gave a soft cry. Hawke began thrusting immediately, lazily, in an uneven rhythm that betrayed how sleepy he still was as well. He kept his mouth on hers, nearly suffocating her as he kissed her almost too deeply in his laziness. His full weight was upon her, and all she could feel were the slow jerks of his hips to thrust himself inside of her.

He released her mouth and slid his hot kisses along her throat down to her breast and began lightly nibbling and swirling his tongue against her nipple. She moaned and he raised his gaze. “I mean, if you don’t care if they hear you,” he teased, and he suddenly thrust harder into her to make her gasp and moan. She bit her lip and tried to fight the sounds she made in response to his movements.

“Ga-Garrett, stop, please -” she gasped and he gave her a devilish grin.

“All right,” he sighed slightly and went back to the leisurely rhythm he had had before. His hot, heavy weight upon her was oddly intoxicating, his thrusts again pressing him against her excited clit until she was moaning quietly, feeling close to a soft, slow release. He raised a hand to her breast and grasped it, palming and squeezing it as he twirled her nipple in between his fingers and thumb. He resumed his suffocating kiss and she felt overpowered by his close presence until all she could focus on was the feeling of where they were joined in between her legs.

Mara felt herself fall apart, leisurely just like his thrusts, her back arching as if in slow motion to push her breasts against his chest as she rolled her hips into his and she gave a soft groan. He thrust twice abruptly at a faster pace, and then pushed deep and she felt him finish within her, slowing his pace into a few soft thrusts after trying to go so deep. Hawke leaned his forehead next to where her head lay on the pillow and took several steadying breaths.

“Even with terrible morning breath you still make me lose my mind and fuck you until I’m cross-eyed,” he murmured.

She gave a soft giggle. “It’s not like yours is that great either, ass,” she told him.

He chuckled and raised his head. “Are you calling me an ass or are you telling me that’s what it smells like?”

She shook her head with an exasperated smile. “So what now?” she asked after a moment.

“I need a nap, that’s what,” he said and he lowered and rubbed his forehead against the pillow as if getting snuggled in to sleep.

“Stop that,” she chided and began to push at his chest to encourage him off of her. It was useless; he was much bigger than she was, and she gave up her attempt with a sigh.

“I could always go out and tell them you had a nightmare,” he mused, his head still buried above her shoulder, his voice muffled as he responded. “Something about a lecture by a Revered Mother, or maybe a nightmare where Varric lost all of his chest hair and had a beard, like a normal dwarf. Those sound reasonable. They’d believe I needed to rush in here to save you from them.”

She scoffed. “If we’re lying to them, we are not telling them you had to save me from being scared by a nightmare.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of – think about it, Varric with a beard and a smooth chest?” he lifted his head again and looked at her, his deep blue eyes twinkling with his humor. “Even I’m quaking with fear just picturing it.”

She groaned in frustration. He’d never take anything seriously. “I suppose we could try and peek out so you can leave when no one’s looking?”

“Andraste’s tits, how late is Hawke going to sleep in?” they heard Varric say outside the tent and Mara’s eyes widened.

“Have you seen the Inquisitor? I needed to discuss our plan for our assault with her,” Stroud’s voice chimed in.

Mara squeezed her eyes shut and groaned lightly. “Great,” she muttered.

“Well, this should be entertaining,” Hawke observed with a chuckle, and he finally removed himself from her and stood.

She lay still on her sleeping mat as he stretched for several minutes, his muscles flexing intriguingly as she watched his movements about the tent greedily. He was perhaps the finest specimen of man she’d ever seen. Even the few squires and soldiers she’d been with before had still been just a little too soft, like they didn’t really take their training seriously. Hawke on the other hand seemed like pure muscle; tall, strong, and agile like some beast of prey. It was especially interesting to her since he was a mage; most of the mages she knew weren’t incredibly active, considering their magic meant they didn’t have to train for combat the same way as everyone else. She consistently felt envious at how many hours a day she had to train to stay sharp with her two daggers while the mages who had joined the Inquisition didn’t train at all.

“I still can’t see straight,” he muttered suddenly and she looked up from where she’d been watching his thigh muscles flex as he stooped to pick up his breeches. “Is there something in that mark of yours that makes grown men weak in the mind and feel like imbeciles?”

She giggled softly. “If there is I wish I’d known sooner, I would have tried it out ages ago.”

“Oh, a lot of other admirers in your back pocket, then?” he teased, raising an eyebrow at her as he pulled his breeches on and began to fasten them.

She shrugged playfully. “Maybe.” It was a lie, but she couldn’t help making him think he wasn’t the only option she had available to her. She didn’t want him to know she had figured it out and it had been almost two years since she’d been with anyone else. Considering how undefined and casual they currently were, she refused to let him know how wonderful this all was for her. It would just make him even cockier, and she didn’t want to seem like some starstruck young maiden.

“Yes, well, they’ll have to wait their turn,” he quipped. “I’m afraid I’m going to be demanding most of your time for the foreseeable future. I’m rather selfish.”

“Is that so?” she raised an eyebrow and stared at him, curious of what he meant.

“I think I’m going to monopolize a bit more of your time while I’m being forced to work with your Inquisition. It’s the least you can do for me, after all.”

She giggled a little, but didn’t say anything. She didn’t trust herself to speak, afraid she’d blunder and trip over her words like she always did in his presence and let him know too honestly just how fantastic that sounded to her.

“Well, I think this merits a direct approach,” he put his hands on his hips and stared for a moment at the tent flaps as though considering something. “And also careful distraction and avoidance. Observe a master at work.”

And he gave a playful bow and a smirk before he sauntered out of the tent full of confidence. She sat up on her sleeping mat and listened carefully, surprised at his sudden shameless departure.

“Morning,” she heard him greet someone cheerfully. “Are you planning on lounging about all day? We need to get a move on.”

“Uh, Hawke, did you just -” she heard Varric begin.

“Lovely morning to interrupt a possible blood magic ritual, isn’t it?” Hawke continued as though Varric hadn’t spoken, and she realized his voice was trailing off as he made his way further along the tents to his own.

Silence followed this pronouncement until she heard several deep chuckles from a few people standing nearby.

“Where was his shirt? Or his shoes?” she heard Cassandra ask.

“I guess we know where he and the Inquisitor were,” she heard Varric laugh.

She couldn’t help but laugh to herself, putting her face in her hands as she did.  _ That man _ , she mused to herself, and she finally pushed her covers back and stood to get into her armor to face the day.


	4. Postscript

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Champion can only take things seriously one percent of the time.

“I think I know where he fled,” Stroud said, panting slightly after the battle with the Wardens and demons. “There’s an old Warden fortress in that direction, Adamant. I believe they may be gathering there.”

Mara was flexing her left fist, her palm tingling painfully after her use of the Anchor. Hawke was standing beside Stroud, positively fuming over what had happened. Earlier that morning she’d thought he’d never take anything seriously, but now she finally saw that he could, in fact, take things incredibly seriously. She hadn’t ever seen his eyes look so dangerous. His cheeks were flexing as he clenched his jaw and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed hard. He suddenly very much resembled the fierce Champion Varric had told tales about.

“Stroud and I will scout the area to see what we can discover, and meet you back at Skyhold,” he finally gritted out. He turned to look at Mara and something in his eyes changed, though they were still sparkling intensely. “Inquisitor, if I may have a moment of your time.”

She nodded and frowned, following him away from the others and around a corner on the ramparts. As soon as they were out of sight of the others he grabbed her roughly and pushed her against the wall, his hands gripping her upper arms, his fingers almost painful through her leather armor. He pushed himself against her and caught her bottom lip in his teeth, tugging it harshly to demand her attention.

“Hurry off to Skyhold, Inquisitor,” he said against her lips, his tone firm and his eyes boring into her. “None of this bodes well, and we need to put a stop to it immediately.”

“Of course,” she murmured, still frowning sharply at him. “You’ll follow soon, I trust?” She was concerned about leaving him behind; he seemed particularly affected by the blood magic ritual the Wardens had been performing with Erimond. She almost worried he’d try to get into the Fortress on his own.

“I’ll give you just enough of a head start so that I can watch your sweet ass ahead of me the whole journey back,” he quipped, his eyes taking on a humorous gleam underneath the anger still shining in them. “I’ll send a report ahead once I learn more so you can prepare your forces.”

He leaned down abruptly and crushed his lips to hers, stealing her breath away. Mara was a little surprised; they had been enjoying their time together, but this almost seemed like a farewell that actually had something behind it. She wondered if he was just upset by the blood magic and needed what distraction he could take. Varric had told her stories about Kirkwall, about what had happened to Hawke’s mother and at the Gallows because of blood magic. She assumed he was just re-channeling his memories and his anger, and so she let him kiss her deeply, held against the wall by his strong fingers.

Hawke finally released her. He gave her his characteristic smirk. “Remember to tell your other lovers that I’m not up for sharing, at the moment,” he teased. “I’ll be back to Skyhold before they have a chance to get settled into a rotation.”

She raised an eyebrow in mock thoughtfulness. “Oh I don’t know, I think there’ll be time for at least a couple.”

He scowled at her and she wiggled her eyebrows before she turned to walk away from him.

“You’re covered in blood, you know that, right?” he called after her. “It’s quite disgusting.”

She looked over her shoulder at him. “I’m only covered in blood because I had to actually do _work_ during the battle, Champion – you just stood there and looked pretty, holding your staff.”

“First time I’ve heard you complain,” he replied smoothly.

Mara chuckled and turned back to join the others and begin their journey back to Skyhold.

 

* * *

 

 She was glad they were traveling back separately for one reason only; she had drunk the last of the witherstalk and spindleweed potions she’d thought to bring with them the day they had assaulted the ritual tower. Getting back to Skyhold first at least gave her time to make sure she had enough in stock to continue making it before he returned.

She wondered a bit why she didn’t even consider telling him not to finish within her, which she’d insisted on with every other lover she’d had before. All she knew was how much she loved it when he did, the way he pushed himself so deep and then ended with a few more thrusts as if he was trying to prolong it, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his brows furrowed as he groaned. It was one of the sexiest things she’d ever experienced. The fact that she was the one witnessing it, the fact that she was getting to see _him_ lose himself within her, made it even more delicious.

“Inquisitor, can I help you?” A voice sounded behind her and she turned to see Adan staring at her, frowning as he took in the sight of her hastily shoveling witherstalk and spindleweed into a large pouch.

“I think I’ve got everything,” she smiled at him, trying to act casual. “I’ll, uh, make sure we send some scouts to replenish these supplies. But in the meantime…” She trailed off and nodded her head, looking thoughtfully around the apothecary’s lab for a moment before she closed the pouch. “I, ah…All right…I’ve – I’ve got everything I need.”

She gave him a jerky nod and swiftly exited the room, running across the courtyard to mount the steps to the keep.

“Oh, Inquisitor, the war council is about to begin,” the Commander called to her as she raced by him.

“Be there in a minute, just need to pop up to my quarters for a…report,” she answered lamely, and she darted through the door to her chambers. She mounted the steps leading up to it and set the pouch of herbs down on her desk. Mara hesitated for a moment before she grabbed the first bit of parchment she could from the top of her desk and left the room, realizing she’d said she was grabbing a report.

 

* * *

 

 “Urgent message from the Champion, Commander, he sent it ahead of his return,” the scout said after he bowed, looking apologetic for interrupting the war council.

“Thank you,” the Commander said, and he reached over to take the report from the scout, unrolling it as he went, reading it aloud.

“‘Commander Curly' oh, for the love of -" Cullen shook his head and sighed before he continued reading. "'Have scouted the area and noted a large influx of Grey Wardens coming to Adamant Fortress. No sign yet of a demon army, but I’m certain it’s only a matter of time. You’re going to need a bigger army, or some siege equipment at the very least to get past how well fortified it is. There's too much blood and unusual lights in the area, has to be the work of that Venatori Aminond, or whatever his name was. Honestly who cares, he’s a shit and I’m not getting paid enough to remember blood mages’ names. Which reminds me, I’m not actually getting paid at all,’” Cullen paused and his scowl deepened, obviously disproving of Hawke’s casual tone in the report. “‘Anyway, about to head back myself so I can steal all the glory from you again, Commander, so please don’t leave without me. I look forward to the songs they’ll sing about me retaking Adamant Fortress while they stick to only singing about your stupid hair and rhyme your name with Sullen every chance they get. Signed - The Man Who Can Grow a Better Beard Than You, Hawke.’”

Mara pressed her fist to her lips to stifle her laughter. She could hear Hawke’s deep voice saying the words in her head, and she had to hold back tears of mirth. The fact that Cullen had continued to read it in a careful monotone, only stopping occasionally to shake his head in frustration at the words, was too much for Mara. Josephine cleared her throat and scribbled something quickly in her notes and Leliana shuffled some papers in front of her. They both seemed like they were trying to distract themselves from the words as well, and Mara suspected they were both fighting laughter.

Cullen finished unrolling the scroll completely, checking for more before he grumbled, “Oh, and of course there’s a postscript, as well. ‘P.S. Lady T - I’d better hurry back, I’m beginning to forget what your beauti –’ Maker’s breath,” Cullen swore and suddenly stopped reading aloud, and then he turned the most curious shade of crimson. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open slightly as his eyes flicked back and forth a few more times over the scroll. A long moment passed and with one quick furtive glance at Mara, after which he blushed until he was positively vermillion, he cleared his throat and handed the scroll to her. “It’s for you,” he muttered, his voice choked by what sounded like embarrassment as he avoided her gaze.

Mara took it from him, unrolling it again so she could glance down at the bottom of the report. She saw immediately what had caused the Commander to blush so profusely and fall into awkward silence.

 

 

> _P.S. Lady T - I’d better hurry back, I’m beginning to forget what your beautiful tits look like. I’m positively starved for the sight of them bouncing beneath me as I make you come. It’s gotten so bad poor Stroud had to pull me away from what I thought was an oasis of your perfect breasts and tight cunt, but unfortunately it was just a mirage. I tried to draw them from memory, but as you can see it’s a poor attempt. Tell your other admirers I’ll be back in two days, and they can fuck off because I’ll be taking up all of your free time after that. When I return I want to know how much of this report Commander Curly actually read before he stopped. Remember, seven is still the number to beat. Looking forward to it, Garrett._

 

Mara stared wide-eyed at the postscript for a moment, which was lengthier than she’d assumed and did indeed feature a rather large, crude drawing of her breasts beneath it. Hawke was right; it was a rather poor attempt at capturing them, but it was obvious enough what had made Cullen’s cheeks flush so deeply.  She lightly cleared her throat and looked up at those around her. The Commander was still blushing and avoiding her gaze. “Oh,” she said softly. “He says he’ll be back tomorrow.”

And that was all she said, rolling the report in her hands and holding onto it tightly. She could tell Leliana was dying to get her hands on it, but she refused to let this particular bit of gossip fall into the spymaster’s grasp so easily.


	5. Eagerness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Champion returns, and the Inquisitor tries to pretend to be cool about it.

Anyone who was watching her probably thought she was crazy.

Mara was pacing back and forth in the courtyard, constantly second guessing herself. Hawke was supposed to be arriving shortly, and she’d come down to greet him. And then decided she shouldn’t. Or maybe she should? No, no, that was too eager.

She took a few steps toward the stairs into the keep, only to turn back around and take a few steps toward the gate. Each time she took fewer steps in either direction until she was just turning around again and again on the spot. She looked like she was very poorly executing the steps of a dance.

Finally with a frustrated growl she determined not to wait for him in the courtyard like an eager, lovesick young girl and turned to run up the stairs into the keep. As she turned she heard them call for the gates to be opened and two horses rode into the courtyard. Mara panicked and tried to sprint up the stairs, hoping she could get into the keep before he saw her.

She made it halfway up the staircase to the landing where they had named her Inquisitor, and had a sudden perfect view of the courtyard below her. Hawke was sitting astride his horse, staring up at her.

Shit.

For a moment they held each other’s gaze until she gave a start and continued to flee up the rest of the stairs.

Shit, shit, shit.

She wondered if he would believe her if she told him she had just been passing by, heading back from the tavern or talking to a scout. Maybe she could bribe Scout Harding to back up that claim. If she’d thought about it sooner she would have tried to walk more calmly instead of tearing up the stairs, so that that lie would be more believable.

What an idiot.

“Did I hear them call for the gates to open? Is Hawke back?” Varric asked when she nearly barreled over him as she ran through the doors of the keep.

“I don’t know,” she squeaked as she stumbled a bit to avoid him.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” he asked her suspiciously.

“I forgot I have a – a meeting with Josephine,” she lied and ran through the main hall to the Ambassador’s office. She pulled the door open and shut it quickly behind her.

“Inquisitor, how can I help you?” Josephine asked as she looked up from where she sat across the room.

“Um,” Mara said as she tried to catch her breath and walked over to take a chair before the Ambassador’s desk. “Just wanted to check in, see how – how things are progressing.”

“Quite well, actually,” Josephine answered, but raised an eyebrow at Mara. “Are you all right, Inquisitor?”

“Yes, yes,” she rushed to assure her. “I decided to run the stairs, just trying to stay sharp before our assault on the fortress.”

“I see,” Josephine nodded. “Well, speaking of the assault – I’ve heard from Lady -”

The doors to the office opened suddenly and Hawke swaggered in, followed closely by Varric and Stroud.

“Inquisitor,” he greeted her loudly, and she saw a sparkle in his eyes and the corner of his lips were trying to fight a smirk. “Call a war council, if you’d please. I’d like to fill you in. On what I learned in the Western Approach.”

Mara felt her cheeks heat and for a moment she couldn’t trust herself to respond. She shrank back a little in her chair under the intensity of his knowing gaze – she’d caught the innuendo and he could tell.

“Of course,” Josephine answered for her. “I’ll make sure Leliana and the Commander join us.”

The Ambassador stood and picked up her note-taking board and walked briskly out of the office to get scouts to fetch the other advisors. Mara sat frozen in her chair, unsure if she should retreat to the War Room or stay in her seat. Caught in indecision, though, she sat still and simply stared at him.

“I trust you read my report, my lady,” he said after a moment, his voice dripping with suggestion.

“I did, yes,” she replied, trying to act nonchalant and detached.

“And what about the update I asked for?” he was smirking.

“He made it to the postscript,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow, seeming a little shocked. “Did he read it?”

“He stopped reading aloud when he got to the word ‘beautiful.’”

“He was reading the whole thing aloud?” he sounded wickedly delighted. “Do you think he still read the rest?”

“I think he did,” she shrugged, remembering the way Cullen’s eyes had flickered back and forth over the parchment as though compelled before he handed it over. Hawke burst out laughing.

“And did you like my sketch?” his eyes twinkled as he watched her intently.

She finally stood and folded her arms, raising an eyebrow mockingly at him. “It was atrocious,” she deadpanned. She turned and walked through the door that led to the War Room’s hallway to await the war council, smiling to herself as she heard him laughing behind her.

Footsteps followed her progress and she turned, but it was the Warden Stroud. Hawke and Varric seemed to be hanging back, speaking with one another. She hated that she felt a little disappointed that he didn’t follow her right away.

“Inquisitor, how are preparations coming?” Stroud asked her, and she shook herself a little mentally to refocus on the task at hand.

“We should be able to leave in a few days, and we have several nobles from the area promising aid,” she informed him as they entered the War Room. They stood and looked over the map, updating one another and discussing business.

After a few minutes the doors to the War Room opened once more and Hawke entered, followed closely by Leliana and Josephine.

“The Commander is on his way,” Josephine told them, and she shuffled reports as she prepared.

Hawke sauntered around the table, looking at the map as though thinking hard. He slowly made his way to stand beside Mara and edged so close to her she felt overwhelmed by his large presence and folded her arms as if to defend herself against it. She could see out of the corner of her eye that he was smirking, like he knew how flustered he was making her.

The doors opened again and the Commander entered briskly, staring down at several reports that he held. “Sorry, I’d misplaced a page from a report,” he muttered, and he glanced up to see Hawke across the table from him. He scowled and looked away, moving to stand beside Stroud on another side of the war table.

Stroud and Hawke began their update, Hawke actually managing to be serious except for the way he kept alluding to his report and trying to catch Mara’s eye to wink at her.

“And are you certain you gathered enough information, Hawke?” the Commander asked brusquely after Hawke had finished a part of his report on the odd activity in the area around the fortress. “It was hard to tell from your report if you had actually managed to accomplish anything of substance.”

Hawke smirked at Cullen for a moment before he replied. “Oh trust me, Sullen, I was hard at work night and day.”

Cullen glowered and muttered, “I’m sure you were,” under his breath before he caught Mara’s eye and blushed.

“I promise, Commander, we observed as much as we could before our return. Hawke was quite eager to get back and let you know all we had discovered, kept rushing us along our return journey so we could get back to report it all as quickly as possible.” Stroud rushed to assure them, and Mara saw Hawke trying to covertly motion for the Warden to stop talking out of the corner of her eye.

“Is that so, Stroud?” she asked pointedly, and raised an eyebrow at Hawke. He gave her a playful glower.

“Yes, well,” Cullen cleared his throat to get the conversation back on track. “I just want to be certain we’re not walking in blind.”

Hawke chuckled. “No, we saw plenty, wouldn’t you say, Commander?”

Cullen flushed a deeper shade of crimson at the Champion’s implication and shuffled reports in his hands, not responding.

The War Council finished its meeting, concluding its business until Josephine heard back from a few of the nobles near Adamant. Mara walked from the room, her heart beating a little faster now as she wondered if Hawke was going to follow her. She tried to walk purposefully, not giving away her jittery excitement as she turned and headed to her quarters. Her fingers hadn’t been enough for her the past several nights they’d been apart from each other, and she was looking forward to the reunion he had so heavily hinted at in his report.

She pulled the door open to her chambers and closed it behind her, and then stood at the foot of the stairs leading up to her room, waiting. She couldn’t help herself, even though she knew how eager it made her seem. She had to kiss him as soon as he came in the door.

Except that he didn’t.

Mara waited for a few moments, thinking maybe he’d been delayed talking to Stroud or Varric. But after what she’d determined had to be long enough for him to finish a conversation, she began to feel antsy. Had he not seen where she was going? Or was he suddenly ignoring her?

She put her hands on her hips and thought, staring at the portal that remained closed. She knew she was sacrificing some of her pride to do it, but she felt overcome with impatience. She was already wet, she could feel a slight throb in between her legs, a tingling running through her limbs. She’d never wanted anyone more, and she became increasingly annoyed that he was making her wait.       

With frustration evident in her every movement, she gritted her teeth and yanked the door open, intending to seek him out.


	6. Payback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor and the Champion try to get even with each other.

Hawke wasn’t anywhere to be found in the main hall, Josephine’s office, the War Room, or even the courtyard. Mara walked briskly, poking her head around corners and opening doors, trying to find him. She stood in the courtyard, her hands on her hips as she chewed a lip in pensive frustration. She knew there was one last place to check, and she sighed and leaned her head back on her shoulders, realizing how much of her pride she really would be sacrificing if she went there.

Mara slowly made her way up the stairs to the battlements, dragging her feet as she mentally warred with herself. Her rational mind told her not to go, to make him seek her out instead. But the need that was coursing through her was drowning out the sane voice of her mind. She was so wet she could feel it soaking her smallclothes, her hands were almost shaking as she felt excited anticipation flow through her.

She found herself in front of the door to his tower room and took a few breaths, still trying to decide what she wanted to do. Before she could make up her mind, the door opened and he was standing there. He gave her a lazy, broad grin.

“Ha, I knew you wouldn’t be able to wait, little minx,” he teased knowingly. “But I’m afraid you’ll have to wait longer, I was just leaving.”

“What? Where are you going?” she asked before she could stop the words from spilling out of her mouth. She immediately hated herself as she realized she’d walked into a trap he’d set for her. He’d wanted to see if she’d come find him, she knew it. She was seething at her own impatience.

“Varric and I are having drinks at the tavern, he’s waiting for me,” he told her smoothly.

“Oh, I -” she fell silent, trying to keep the pout off her face. She was embarrassed and mentally scolding herself.

“Don’t worry, I’m certain I’ll find you in a few hours, if I can still walk straight,” he told her casually, and he turned as if to close the door behind him.

The urge was too great to resist. She was angry that she’d fallen into his web, that she’d played her hand and let him know how much she wanted him and couldn’t wait. Varric could wait instead; she was going to get Hawke back and make him just as crazy as she currently felt.

She pushed him back into his room with a hand on his chest so that she could close the door behind them. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Really, Mara, I’ve already kept him waiting -”

“He can wait a few more minutes,” she purred, and she reached down to his breeches. She held his gaze and smiled at him seductively as she undid the laces and slid her hand under the leather. His body betrayed his cool attitude; he was already almost fully hard. She lightly brushed her fingers down his length, teasing him as much as she could with the constricting presence of his breeches. His breath caught and he stared down at her, his blue eyes suddenly smoky with desire.

She guided him to the wall beside them so that he could lean against it and she slowly slid his breeches down his hips to free his cock. She pumped his length with her hand a few times and he moaned, resting his head back and closing his eyes. With a smirk Mara got on her knees before him and took his tip in between her lips, slowly dragging her tongue along its slit. He gave a loud groan and his head snapped forward so that he could look at her. His usual grin and twinkle of humor in his eyes were gone, his gaze instead intently focused on watching her every move as she sucked slowly at the very tip of him.

She took him in her hand and slowly stroked him as she took more of him into her mouth. His jaw went slightly slack as he watched, and when she bobbed her head a little faster he sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth to bite it with another loud groan of pleasure. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, struggling to keep his eyes open so he could take it all in, which was exactly what she wanted. She did everything she could think of, sucking hard at his tip as she licked him slowly and pumped him with her hand. She took his balls softly in her hand and stroked them, and he moaned. She slid as much of him down her throat as she could, varying her speed as she did so. She let him see her struggle to fit his size in her mouth and throat and moaned around him as she did so, enthusiastically letting him know she was enjoying the feeling. Everything she did was calculated and she watched him as intently as he watched her.

“Fuck, Mara, I -” he began, and she heard the urgency in his voice, saw his brows begin to furrow, and she tasted a small bit of salty excitement on her tongue as it leaked from his tip. It was exactly what she’d been waiting for.

She released the pressure of her mouth immediately and removed her hand, pulling away from him entirely. “You’re right, I’m so sorry,” she said flippantly as she got to her feet. “Poor Varric must be worried sick. You’d better get to the tavern.”

“What are you doing?” he growled, a deep glare on his handsome features, confused and incredulous as he tried to catch his breath.

“I’m letting you go get drinks with Varric, like you promised him you would. You’re right, you can find me in a few hours,” she said, feigning innocence and giving him a small shrug. “Have fun.”

Mara turned to leave but Hawke grabbed her roughly by the arm and began to drag her to the bed.

“Hawke, really, you’re already so late,” she protested, struggling to hide the evil grin that was trying to spread across her face.

He gave a wordless growl and spun her to face him, one hand still gripping her arm and the other working on the laces of her breeches. “Think you’re funny, do you?”

“Whatever do you mean?” she batted her eyelashes at him, still attempting not to smirk.

He managed to get her laces undone and pushed her breeches down under the curves of her rear. He turned her away from him and bent her over so that she was leaning on the edge of the bed. Without warning he slapped one of the cheeks of her ass as hard as he could and she cried out. He chuckled and slapped the other side just as forcefully so that she yelped. She bit her lip and moaned as the initial sting faded and left behind a dull heat almost like pleasure. She could feel herself getting even wetter, beginning to drip down her slit.

Hawke moved to stand behind her and angled her hips up to him, pressing his tip against her opening. “Is this what you wanted so badly, pet?” he asked, his voice harsh. She closed her eyes as she felt herself throb in response to his words and the tone of his voice. He slapped her ass, once each side, when she delayed answering.

“Yes,” she finally moaned, and she tried to push back to encourage him to thrust into her. He gripped her hips and stopped her from moving, keeping himself pressed to the entrance but not letting himself rest inside of her.

“Did you miss it that much, after only a few days, like a little slut?” he asked, his tone still firm and demanding.

“Yes, I did,” she whimpered, and hated that she felt compelled to admit it. But she had to, she had to tell him – the feeling of him waiting to push into her was driving her crazy.

He gave a deep chuckle and began to push himself into her, torturously slow. When she moaned he stopped and pulled himself back out.

“Fuck,” she groaned, frustrated. “Please – please -”

“Please, what? You know what I want you to say,” he said, and he gave her ass another powerful slap to elicit a loud cry from her.

“Fuck me, please – I want you, Garrett,” she panted desperately.

He immediately slammed himself into her, all the way to the hilt. She cried out and he tightened his grip on her hips, pulling her roughly back against him and holding her in place. He took up a relentless pace, and she felt the edges of her consciousness fade away as it always did when he was inside of her. All she could focus on was the feeling of him moving within her, the rough, unyielding way he was fucking her. She wasn’t aware of how much noise she was making, wasn’t aware of anything existing in the entire world beyond his cock thrusting into her. She reached a hand up to try to reach her clit, and he grabbed her wrist and pulled it behind her, preventing her from touching herself.

“Garrett, no, please -” she begged with a whimper.

“I’m not done paying you back yet,” he growled and he continued to hold her arm behind her as he fucked her at the same unrelenting pace he had been. After what felt like a lifetime of every nerve in her body aching in fiery overdrive, she noticed that he was suddenly even harder within her. He was about to come, and he finally reached with his other hand to the front of her and lightly stroked her clit.

It was immediate, she was so close that all it took was one flick of his finger and she screamed his name and thrust wildly against him as she felt every muscle in her body convulse and contract around him. As soon as she cried out his name she felt him drive deep and the hot feeling of his release filled her. He groaned obscenely loud as he came, and she was suddenly aware of just how loud he must have been the entire time he’d been fucking her.

It was like the world turned back on around her as soon as she finished. She could see and hear again, and she had the horrible, sudden realization that it was late afternoon and Skyhold had to be heavily populated, the battlements and courtyard full of soldiers, recruits, and other members of the Inquisition. She felt Hawke roll his hips and thrust himself a few more times before he finally released the arm he held and pulled himself from within her.

Mara tried to push herself to a standing position but her knees were too weak. She stumbled and landed on the edge of the bed, her breeches still awkwardly pushed down just past her ass. She sat looking around the room, trying to regain her senses and her breath. Hawke stood beside the bed, pulling his own breeches up and lacing them once more after he’d tucked himself back in. She glanced up at him and saw that he was smiling.

“Well, I’m guessing we were loud enough Varric won’t even have to ask me why I’m late. At least that saves me the trouble of having to come up with an excuse,” he mused. She felt a little proud of herself when she noticed how breathless and shaky his voice sounded compared to its normally smooth and cocky tone. He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “I know I said the goal was nine, but we’ll have to save the other eight for later. I’d better run along.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss against her lips that managed to imply promise, possession, and farewell all at once before he straightened and walked over to the door. It left her even more breathless. “See you later, pet,” he said, and he exited the room with one last smirk at where she still sat reeling on the bed.

Mara pressed a hand to her forehead and took a steadying breath, realizing that she was going to have to leave the tower and face anyone outside who had heard. She couldn’t tell if she felt excited or terrified by the prospect. After another moment she finally felt like her legs could support her, and she stood up from the bed, pulling her breeches up and lacing them once more. She checked with her fingers that her face wasn’t covered in sweat, and ran a hand through her long brown waves, only to discover they were slightly dampened around her face. She took another steadying breath and opened the tower door to head to the stairs.

As soon as she exited she noticed a few soldiers along the ramparts who carefully averted their gaze when they saw her, as though they had been waiting to see who would exit. She hesitated for a moment and then hurriedly walked past them like she had important business to attend to. When she reached the stairs she turned to hurry down them, but halted when she saw the Commander standing further down the ramparts, looking as if he was frozen in place. She stared wide-eyed at him, realizing that he was positively slack-jawed at the sight of her.

And if he was staring at her like that, she knew it could mean only one thing. She straightened her back and raised her chin a little as she took a carefully measured pace to the stone steps. She tried to walk as gracefully and casually down the stairs as she could, acting as if nothing had happened.


	7. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Champion wakes the Inquisitor up to try to break their record.

Mara set the vial aside on her desk and then stripped out of her clothes as she made a face. The witherstalk and spindleweed potion was hard to down even when mixed with something sweeter. She shook her head, still trying to clear it from what had happened only minutes before. She stripped and threw her clothes haphazardly on the floor and then flung herself across her large bed. She was positively exhausted from the way Hawke had taken her, fast and rough after her teasing.

She fell asleep almost instantaneously, lying naked on top of her sheets, and everything was just welcome blackness for what felt like eternity.

_Mmm, just there, almost there_ , she thought as she felt herself edging slowly out of unconsciousness, pulled out of sleep by overwhelming sensation. Her whole body felt numb, throbbing; in between her legs felt deliciously wet, and her sex was pulsing intoxicatingly, making her moan. She was so close she was sure any moment she was going to lose herself. Gradually she became aware of the slow, wet something being moved along her slit, gliding in between her lips and occasionally dipping itself softly into her opening. She rolled her hips against it as she fluttered her eyes open to look down and discover its source.

Hawke’s piercing blue eyes were staring up at her. He had her legs draped over his shoulders, his mouth moving against her slit as he used his tongue to please her. When he saw her open her eyes he gently sucked her clit for a moment and she cried out. He moved his tongue down and again slid it along her throbbing opening, catching her juices as they flowed from her in response to his slow rhythm. He took up a persistent, measured licking once more with his tongue pressed flat against her swollen pearl.

“Mmmm, ohhhh, Garrett, I’m going to… _oh_ ,” she moaned softly and arched her back as she felt her whole body tense and her mind go blank. He continued his careful stroking, carrying her through and prolonging it until she was sobbing and her whole body shuddered violently in response. He pulled away and kissed the insides of her thighs, softly sucking on her skin, letting her come down from the feeling.

After a few moments he repositioned his mouth over her slit, his hot breath on her as he slid a finger inside her, the feeling positively electric. She cried out and he began flicking her clit in a faster pace than before with his tongue.

“Garrett – oh, Garrett, I – _mmm, unnnnnh_ ,” she tried to form words but the sensations made it impossible. She felt herself fall apart again, each contraction of her muscles accompanied by a desperate whimper sounding from her throat. It was so overpowering she finally reached down and twisted her hand in his untidy black hair and pulled him away from her. “Please, oh Maker, I can’t -”

“Don’t want to go for another?” he asked her huskily, his breath, beard, and lips teasing her oversensitive nerves with their proximity.

“I think I’ll pass out if you do,” she moaned. She felt him chuckle against her, still too close to her swollen pearl and her whole body jerked at the sensation.

“That’s all right, I’d just wake you up again,” he teased and he finally moved his head and pressed his lips to the inside of one of her thighs again. She could feel his beard was soaked with her wetness. “You’re a heavy sleeper. I almost thought I was going to get you to come before you woke up. I’ve been teasing you for ages while you laid there snoring like a lazy nug.”

Mara giggled, still panting slightly as she tried to regain her senses. She loved sleeping and hated waking up with an intense, burning passion; but she decided that if she could choose any way to wake up, it was with his greedy tongue on her, his face buried between her legs. He finally removed her legs from his shoulders and pushed himself up on the bed. He was naked and hard and she bit her lip as she took in the beautiful sight of his hard cock pointing at her eagerly. The tip was glistening slightly, as though he’d released some of his own wet excitement already.

Hawke crawled toward the headboard and propped some pillows against it, then grabbed her by the waist and pulled her with him until she was in his lap and he was sitting reclined against the pillows. “I just did a lot of work, pet, I think it’s your turn.”

She moaned a little and leaned down to crush her lips against his, a little too enthusiastically so that their teeth clicked and their tongues’ rhythm was erratic and sloppy, every part of his hot mouth tasting of her. She used her fingers and quickly guided him to her opening, not bothering to tease him or make sure he was hard enough. She could tell just by looking at him that he was close. He’d nearly gotten himself off on the fact that he was licking her while she was asleep; it was obvious by the smoky look in his deep blue eyes and the wetness on the tip of his cock. She took him into her in one stroke, only waiting a moment to steady herself as her over sensitive nerves reacted to the feeling, and then she began a rapid pace.

He gripped her hips and helped bounce her on him, closing his eyes and leaning his head back with a groan. She slowed for a moment and rolled her hips with him inside her, and he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth to bite in that sexy way he did when he was enjoying himself immensely. But after a few moments he gripped her hips even tighter and began to try to direct her and she resumed taking him in and out of her faster and faster as he wanted. She was moaning, almost wailing; each time she took him all the way to the hilt it caused the edges of her vision to blacken.

“Mmm, Mara – that’s it, almost to four,” he panted, and he began to pull her down on him harder with his hands each time. He leaned forward and captured one of her breasts with his mouth, sucking and licking her nipple as it bounced in front of his face with her movements.

“Four?” she breathed, momentarily distracted.

“That first one was only two hours ago, it counts,” he answered as he angled her hips so he could press more easily against her sweet spot.

“Oh, _Maker_ ,” she moaned suddenly as she felt herself on the brink again in response to the new angle.

“Normally I answer to Garrett, Maker sounds so formal,” he teased breathlessly, smirking at her as she reached with a hand and pushed his face to turn away from her.

“Shut up, I’m going to – oh _fuck_ ,” she groaned as she felt herself clench around him and threw her head back as she cried out his name. He pulled her down roughly on him and held her there as he finished with her, then guided her hips in a rocking motion as they both felt the last shockwaves course through them.

Hawke leaned his head against her collar bone, both of them breathing heavily as they recovered. “Halfway there,” he muttered, and he began to drag his tongue along her neck. “You told your other admirers not to try to stop by, right? It would be terribly awkward to have them interrupt us and see that they’re no comparison for how I fuck you. I’d almost feel pity for them.”

“So cocky,” she teased.

“Well yes, I thought that was what you like best about me,” and he thrust a little within her to emphasize his point. She bit her lip and didn’t respond, not trusting her feelings or her voice. “I brought some wine, I figured we would need something to help keep us going,” he murmured and he rolled and deposited her on her back on the bed, finally pulling himself from within her. Mara watched as he stood, noticing that he stumbled a bit as his legs tried to steady themselves.

“I’d say I’ve had too much ale if it weren’t for the fact that I know fucking you makes me cross-eyed,” he teased as he walked unsteadily to the table in front of her fireplace. She saw now that he’d placed two bottles of wine and some goblets on it. He opened one of the bottles and poured two generous amounts of wine before he brought the goblets over to the bed. “Drink up, little minx, we have a record to beat.”

 

* * *

 

_“Eight!”_ Hawke roared triumphantly. He was so loud she was sure he woke the whole keep as he gripped the top of the headboard with one hand above her to give himself more leverage for his last few thrusts. He pushed as deep as he could and she felt him finish as she clenched around him. He was groaning and laughing breathlessly as he came, a cocky smirk on his face. “ _Yes_ , Mara – keep coming, keep coming, pet - _fuck_ ,” he purred encouragingly as he thrust a few more times, still feeling the shockwaves of her orgasm around his own. His eyes were shut tight as he moaned in response to the sensation of their simultaneous release.

She couldn’t see straight, her body felt like it was made of iron, every muscle so exhausted she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to move again. It was delicious, depraved fatigue. He collapsed on top of her and for a long time she was only aware of their heavy breathing and sweaty bodies pressed against one another as he crushed her into the mattress with his weight.

“I’m going to go back to Kirkwall and change the plaque on the statue in the docks,” he muttered, his voice muffled against the pillow his face was pressing into. “Who cares about my defeat of the Arishok. What needs to be remembered is that I made the Herald of Andraste come eight times in one night.”

She giggled softly, still so exhausted even a giggle was too much effort. He jerked a little when he felt her muscles clench around where he still rested inside her as she laughed.

“You think I’m teasing but I’m not,” he continued. “Maybe I’ll even get someone to commission a new statue, one of just your tits. Something tasteful, though – better than my drawing, I promise. I bet Varric knows a guy.”

“I thought our goal was nine,” she murmured.

“We can save that for another night, right now we beat seven and that’s what counts,” he sighed, still talking into the pillow, also seemingly unable to move. “Besides that means I get to fuck you again until we reach nine, and then I can put up another statue. I’ll just keep putting up statues all over Kirkwall dedicated to how many times I made you writhe and squirm beneath me. Maybe the second should be of your cunt. Or is that too crass for the Herald of Andraste?”

“Has anyone ever told you you talk too much?” she muttered.

“All the time. I’m amazed it’s taken you this long to say it,” he laughed.

“You’ve never shut up long enough to give me a chance,” she replied languidly, the words slow and trailing off lazily.

He rolled and pulled her with him so that she was lying atop him, and he finally did shut up because they both fell asleep without another word, tangled up together.


	8. Pillow Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Champion and Inquisitor's pillow talk takes a few unexpected turns.

The sun was pouring in through the balcony door windows, and she blinked her eyes rapidly as she tried to adjust to the light. As she did, she realized she felt a presence in front of her. When her eyes finally focused she saw Hawke was lying on his side close before her; they were facing each other. His eyes were open and he was moving his hand back under his pillow. Her skin had soft, lingering echoes on it like he had been stroking her hair off her cheek and behind her ear. It was fleeting, but she thought she’d seen a softer look in his eyes than the normal quick humor that was usually lurking in his sapphire depths. Just as soon as she noticed the difference, though, the usual humorous sparkling returned.

“You snore,” he deadpanned, making her wonder if the look and his hand stroking her hair had just been in her drowsy imagination, or a fading dream.

“You look like you drooled all night, there’s some in your beard,” she murmured, and closed her eyes as she snuggled deeper into the sheets. She didn’t want to start her day. She would never admit it aloud, but she wanted to stay here with him, and not even necessarily to spend all day fucking. She just loved the sight of him beside her, his close, warm presence strangely peaceful in her bed.

“That’s not drool, that’s probably from your cunt, little minx,” he suggested playfully.

She gave a soft, noncommittal grunt, suddenly trying to figure out why she liked the idea of cuddling all day in bed with him so much.

“You know, the worst part about your room is how far away it is from everyone else’s,” he sighed. “I doubt we woke as many people up last night as we could have.”

She chuckled, opening her eyes and looking at him. “You mean like yesterday in your room? I forgot to tell you, there were soldiers waiting outside to see who left after you did, and so was the Commander.”

Hawke gave an incredulous laugh. “Commander Sullen heard us? Even better. That makes up for not waking the entire Inquisition last night when we broke our record, I suppose.”

Mara frowned and stared at him for a few moments. “Why do you torment and try to embarrass him so much?”

“He’s a self-righteous, pompous Templar bastard,” Hawke shrugged. “Of course I’m going to torment and embarrass him; I am just a dirty apostate, after all.”

“You were both in Kirkwall, and he served under Meredith,” she mused. “I’m assuming there’s history there?”

Hawke regarded her carefully for a moment. “Things in Kirkwall were shittier than a tavern’s chamber pot room, and he turned a blind eye and ignored it all happening around him,” he said, his tone more serious than normal. “If the worst he has to put up with now is me taunting him in reports and overhearing me fuck a beautiful woman while he skulks around alone – I’d say he’s getting off easy.”

“Is that what this is? Am I part of some revenge scheme against Cullen?” she frowned sharply, remembering how much Hawke had tried to encourage her noise the first time so that her ‘pious Commander’ would hear her.

“Honestly, it’s certainly an added bonus,” his eyes sparkled intently with his next careful words, “but I’m fucking you because  _ I _ want to. He just tends to be the nearest one to hear us when we’re in my room, since he’s right next door.”

“And that was Josephine’s idea and not yours?” She was still frowning.

“If I’d been able to pick my room, I would have just picked this one. Save some trips through the courtyard when I wanted to fuck you.”

She fell into pensive silence. She wanted to believe him, but she could tell there was a deep animosity between the two men and she couldn’t decide if she was willing to get caught in the middle of it. She felt certain at the very least that she  _ shouldn’t _ get in the middle of it if she could avoid it.

“He’s not that bad now, you know,” she murmured, unable to help herself.

“Oh, does he call you ‘my lady’ and smile, and so you think he can’t be all that bad?” Hawke sneered slightly as he said it. “That doesn’t erase what he did. And I think he hates me being here because I know so well how deep his sins in Kirkwall run, and he’d hate for me to tell you all about them.”

“So then tell me, or drop it,” she suggested. “Otherwise don’t try to get me to hate him too, or get me caught in the middle of this pissing contest between the two of you. He’s the Commander of my forces, and I intend to give him a chance to help me fix Thedas. I have to rely on him despite his past, because of his rather important role in the Inquisition.”

Hawke frowned and stared at her for a long moment before he finally rolled onto his back, one hand resting on his chest as he studied the canopy above them. “Do you think someone who said ‘mages aren’t really people’ can actually change?”

Mara thought carefully for a moment. “Yes,” she finally replied. “If anything because if I don’t believe it, he’ll never get a chance to prove if he actually is capable of changing.”

“Maybe if you were a mage you’d feel differently,” he said softly.

They fell into a slightly uncomfortable silence as she realized that he made a fair point; she hadn't been in Kirkwall, and she wasn’t a mage. She could never fully comprehend the past or Hawke’s experiences. She could only evaluate the Commander and his actions from the time she had met him after the Breach.

“You’re so defensive of him, Inquisitor,” he pointed out, something off and almost harsh in his tone. “Is he one of the admirers I’m currently stealing you from?”

“Even if he were, it would be none of your business,” she replied. “It’s not like this is anything more than fucking to you, right?” She tried to keep the edge out of her voice, to keep it even so he couldn’t hear the slight tug of emotion, the way her voice cracked the tiniest bit. She wasn’t sure why it hurt so suddenly, the way he was accusing her of being infatuated with someone else. She pushed the feelings aside, buried the annoyance. He was just being an ass, that was the only reason it bothered her.

Hawke kept his gaze on the canopy above them, but she could tell that his cheeks were flexing as he thought. “You’re right,” he finally muttered, his voice flatter than normal. “I suppose I didn’t think he was your type, I guess I’m just surprised to learn he is.”

Mara didn’t bother correcting him, didn’t bother telling him she hadn’t thought about the Commander beyond the initial recognition that he was an incredibly attractive man. He was obviously too bound up in his own problems, too unsure of himself after the events in Kirkwall to catch her interest. Even though she was currently fuming at Hawke, she had to admit she was attracted to how he maintained his confident bravado, even after everything he had been through. It was as though he was cocky and happy to spite everything that had happened to him, like he was giving the problems of Thedas a rude gesture as they continually tried to beat him down. She wished she could feel that way more often as she tried to piece the entire world back together as Inquisitor.

After another uncomfortable silence, Hawke finally gave a sigh. “I should let you get on with your day, Inquisitor. Plenty to do before we leave.”

He pushed himself into a sitting position and began to slide out of the sheets when she reached out a hand to his waist and tried to pull him back.

“Wait,” she said, but she wasn’t even sure what she wanted to say. She just knew she didn’t want the day to start like this; tense, with him back to calling her ‘Inquisitor.’

“I’m afraid I’m too tired after last night for another round, my lady,” he said stiffly, and it hurt the way he called her ‘my lady’ again instead of ‘pet’ or ‘little minx.’

“That’s not what I want,” she admitted, and she realized it was true. Mara was cursing herself that she couldn’t just let him get out of bed and let them be angry and annoyed at each other all day. Why did she care? All they’d done was fuck, so why was she so irritated if he wanted to leave her bed angry because she wouldn’t irrationally hate and torment the Commander with him?

He froze on the edge of the bed, not trying to pull away but not letting her pull him back. Several long moments passed while he sat motionless, waiting. “Well?” he prompted.

“I just…do we really need to fight over this? Do we need to go back to ‘the Inquisitor’ and ‘the Champion’ because we’re annoyed, arguing over the  _ Commander _ of all people?” she asked. She hated how meek her voice sounded.

“We’re not. I’m just letting you get to your duties,” he replied, but she could tell there was still an edge to his voice. “And we’re not in bed together, and I’m not inside you at the moment, so it’s no longer ‘Mara.’”

She bit her lip and released his waist, falling back on the pillows with a frustrated sigh. Hawke remained at the edge of the bed for a long moment, not moving after she released her grip on him. Mara wanted to ask what he was thinking, she wanted to ask why he hated the idea that she could like Cullen, she wanted to ask what in the Maker’s name they even were to each other. And she hated so much that she suddenly wanted to ask all of those things, that she desperately wanted answers to each one. But her pride finally won out after being silenced the day before, and instead of asking she sat up and threw her legs over the other side of the bed, but didn’t try to stand.

For a long moment they sat in awkward silence, facing away from each other, and then finally he growled, “Fuck this.”

She heard the bed creak under his weight and suddenly his arm was around her waist and he threw her back on the bed. He positioned himself above her, his hands holding himself up as he glowered down at her, his body pressed along hers, pinning her down to the bed with his weight.

“Are you fucking anyone else?” he asked. The intense look in his eyes and the tone of his voice demanded she stop being coy, that she stop teasing him.

“No,” she answered softly.

“Have you fucked your Commander?”

“No,” she frowned.

“Do you want to fuck him?”

“No, I don’t.”

“So no other admirers?”

“No,” she admitted more softly.

“Were you just trying to make me jealous?”

“Not exactly,” she felt herself flush under his careful regard.

“Then what?” he demanded.

“I didn’t want you to know how eager I was,” her voice was barely audible as she admitted it, as she confessed the embarrassing truth to him.

He was frowning down at her. “Why?”

“You’re the great 'Champion of Kirkwall,’ and even though I’ve somehow stumbled into the role of ‘Herald of Andraste’ and ‘Inquisitor,’” she sighed, closed her eyes so she couldn’t see his reaction to her words. “I’m still just a giddy twenty-five year old who heard all the stories about you, who admires you, who was so excited to meet you. And I can’t believe you, the Champion and Hero of Kirkwall, of all people – would want me.”

“I trust you’ve seen a mirror before, haven’t you?” he asked, the humor slowly returning to his voice.

“Still, though,” she muttered, keeping her eyes shut tight. “All of this madness may have happened to me, but I’m still just some nobleman’s daughter, trying to keep up with it all. I guess I – I didn’t want you to know how infatuated I was – am – with you. I didn’t want to feel that…vulnerable.”

“Mara,” he said quietly after a moment, “look at me.”

She opened her eyes slowly and looked up at him finally. The twinkle in his eyes was more pronounced, and he was smiling slightly.

“Remember when you told me you worried it was a joke? I promise you – it still isn’t. I want you very much as well, if that isn’t obvious,” he murmured.

To emphasize his point he rolled his hips into her, drawing attention to his hard cock against her. He leaned down and kissed her, his mouth twisting across hers and his tongue sliding in between her lips to search for hers. His hands began wandering across her skin, and he reached down and spread her thighs, taking his place in between them. He felt with a finger to see if she was excited, and when he found that she was already slick with arousal he positioned himself at her entrance and pushed himself easily into her with one stroke.

She moaned, thrilled but unprepared for how quickly he was inside her; it was unexpected considering their mood only a few moments before. He twisted a hand into her hair, holding her head steady as he kissed her passionately. Hawke thrust deeply into her, still lying flush against her, demanding all of her attention as he kept himself glued to her by his mouth and their sex. His intensity excited her to no end, and it wasn’t long before she was gasping against his deep kiss. He released her mouth finally and looked down into her eyes, and she was surprised to see the passion in the twinkling sapphire orbs.

“Mara,” he groaned softly against her lips, “no one else can have you. Not while we’re – not now. I can’t stand the thought – no one else can fuck you like this. No one. Promise – promise me, Mara.”

“ _ Yes _ , Garrett,” she breathed as she felt herself pushed to the edge by his unexpected words, the tone of his voice surprising.

He resumed his deep kiss and changed his angle just so, grabbing her hands in his and pinning them above her head as he interlaced his fingers with hers. He kept up his steady rhythm, his nearly desperate kiss, and soon she felt her mind go blank as she arched her back against him, her limbs shaking as she came undone beneath him. He thrust deep and she felt him pour himself into her with a soft groan, tightening his grip on her hands as he did so, and he never broke their kiss. He finished with a few languid thrusts, and she smiled softly against his suffocating mouth at the now incredibly familiar action.

Hawke released her lips, pressed wet kisses to her neck, and gently sucked her earlobe. “That’s nine,” he whispered.


	9. Unspoken

“Tomorrow?” Mara asked, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Is that enough time to have prepared?”

“Yes, I believe our forces will be as ready as we can make them,” the Commander answered from where he stood across the table from her. “We can’t delay much longer; we still have to journey across Orlais to reach Adamant with all of our forces. Based on the Warden Stroud and Hawke’s reports, the rituals have most likely already started.”

Mara sighed. “You’re right, of course. I’m just concerned this isn’t enough time to prepare, that we’ll take heavy casualties,” she looked over the map, the figurines spread between Skyhold and the Western Approach.

“You have substantial forces, Inquisitor,” Hawke chimed in, and when she caught his eye he winked and gave her a smirk. “I’m confident you can handle this.”

“Based on the Champion’s reports and what my scouts have seen, not delaying gives us the best chance to succeed,” Leliana agreed.

“We need to leave as soon as possible,” Stroud insisted. She knew he was increasingly impatient to reach the Fortress and stop his fellow Wardens from their madness.

Mara nodded absently and folded her arms. They were right, of course. The longer they took to get to Adamant, the greater the chances of them having to face Corypheus’ demon army became. She just hated the idea of losing men; these decisions were never easy, and were beginning to weigh heavily on her conscience.

“All right, make sure everyone knows,” she declared. “We’ll leave tomorrow at dawn.”

 

* * *

 

 She was struggling to get her satchel packed, again, and smiled slightly to herself. She thought back to the last time she had prepared to leave Skyhold, of the way she had unexpectedly spent that night.

“This brings back all sorts of fond memories,” a deep voice said from behind her, and she glanced back to see Hawke standing at the top of her stairs. He was smirking as he leered at her bending over, taking in the sight of her ass in the air before she straightened to look at him.

“Are you already finished packing?” she asked, surprised.

“I travel light,” he shrugged. “Plus I haven’t had a chance to unpack since I returned yesterday. Someone’s been keeping me too occupied.”

He sauntered casually to one of the chairs in front of her fireplace and flung himself into it, stretching his legs out and crossing his ankles, slouched in the seat and looking effortlessly relaxed. It seemed so natural to see him reclining in the chair in her room, as if he belonged.

She turned back to her satchel and tried to focus on packing once more, but her mind began to wander. They hadn’t spoken of it, they hadn’t mentioned again what he’d said in the midst of passion, not even immediately after. He had pulled himself from her, he had laughed about reaching their goal, he had told more jokes about commissioning statues in Kirkwall. He even started to say he was going to put one in Skyhold, right in the courtyard so it was the first thing people saw when they came in the gates. But neither of them had mentioned the way he’d pleaded with her for faithfulness or the confessions they had both made before he’d taken her so intensely. And even though his eyes had held a deep passion in them beneath the humor afterwards, she kept herself from pointing it out, from acting like anything had changed between them.

Mara was still surprised, still hesitant to accept that it was more than just something he’d said while on the brink of his release. She told herself he only meant to claim the honor of fucking her. He was just selfish, like he’d already told her; nothing had changed. Since he’d said it, though, he’d acted more casually intimate. He had refrained from calling her Inquisitor except when they were in the War Room, he had reached over and fixed the collar of her top before they left her room. She was pleasantly puzzled, but decided to let things be. She’d been fine with things being what they were, just intense nights spent together; she didn’t dare let herself imagine that it was somehow becoming more than that.

Hawke watched her pack, teasing her about how she was folding things, about how she was trying to cram too much into such a small satchel. She laughed, she rolled her eyes, she shook her head in exasperation and exchanged quips when she could think of a good answer to his humor. He seemed to enjoy her banter immensely and tried to prod and make fun of her as much as he could, obviously delighting in her witty, sarcastic responses. It was beginning to feel like foreplay.

When she was done packing he crooked his finger and encouraged her over to where he sat in the chair, and tugged her hand until she got on her knees in front of him. He held her gaze and unlaced his breeches, pushing them down and reaching in so that he could free his cock, which she saw was already hard. She felt herself quickly becoming excited as he spread his legs so that his knees were on either side of her and stared down at her, waiting expectantly. She gave him a wicked smile, feeling positively depraved at how wet she was getting as she anticipated the taste of him.

Mara gripped his shaft with a hand and pumped him a few times as she watched his face. His eyes fluttered shut when she first touched him, and she bit her lip as she watched him respond to her stroking. She leaned forward and placed her lips around his tip, sucking lightly and swirling her tongue around him. He groaned and watched her intently, twisting a hand into her hair as he did.

“Take off your top,” he said, and when she tried to pull her mouth off him to obey he gripped her hair and directed her mouth further down his length. “Don’t stop,” he scolded her.

She moaned a little, excited and surprised by him forcing more of his length into her mouth suddenly. She reached with her hands and began to work on the buttons of her uniform, but her fingers were shaking with anticipated pleasure and she struggled. He continued to gently determine her speed and depth with his hand in her hair while he watched her undoing her top. When she shrugged it off her shoulders finally he bit his lower lip.

“Touch your tits,” he demanded, his voice panting and breathless, and she pinched her sensitive nipples with her fingers, groaning at the sensation. “Do you like that, pet?”

She nodded her head, moaning a little around him, and he thrust lightly with his hips down her throat. She could feel herself throbbing as she teased her nipples and he watched her closely. She was enjoying this as much as he was.

“You have the most amazing lips, Mara,” he moaned. “They look fantastic wrapped around my cock.”

She sucked harder to encourage him to continue – listening to him praise her while she did this for him and touched her own tits was setting her entire body into overdrive.

“You’re so beautiful – you know that though, don’t you?” he continued. She gave another moan around him. He pulled her back so that his cock fell out of her mouth with a wet pop. “Do you like doing this, sucking at me like a little slut?”

“Yes,” she breathed. He gave her a sexy smirk and encouraged her head down to take him back in her mouth. She let him bob her head several times, faster than before as she struggled to take more of him into her.

“I want to come in your mouth, little minx,” he panted. “It’s so beautiful. Please - please let me.”

It was oddly endearing that after everything they’d done together, he was still making sure he asked her permission for this. Listening to him beg her for once was exciting, and she eagerly nodded her head as she continued taking him in and out of her mouth, down her throat as far as she could.

He was tensing, getting even harder, throbbing within her mouth. She tasted a few beads of salty excitement on her tongue and she increased the pressure of her sucking, she tried to take him deeper into her throat as she moaned her pleasure to cause vibrations around him. He threw his head back and bit his lip, giving a loud, sexy, masculine groan, the sound sending a shiver of pleasure through her. She was soaking her smallclothes listening to him enjoy himself.

“Yes, Mara, I’m – fuck, I’m -”

She felt him pulse as he began to come, his hot release pouring into her mouth and down her throat. It was salty and bitter, and the few times she’d done this before she hadn’t enjoyed it. But suddenly since it was him, just as when he came within her, she loved every bit of it. It was too much, though, and after she’d taken as much of the hot liquid as she could to swallow she pulled away. The rest poured out of her mouth, down her chin and onto his still throbbing cock. He was staring at her with his brow furrowed, his breathing heavy, and his mouth hung open as he took in the obscene sight of his come overflowing her mouth.

He was silent except for his panting, still just staring at the sight of her covered in his release. After what felt like an eternity of him looking at her face he began to shake his head a little as though struggling to clear it. “That’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he muttered, completely breathless. “And I’ve seen your tits and your cunt…” He swore again under his breath and leaned his head back on the chair, trying to take deeper breaths to steady himself.

She sat back on her heels and reached up with her sleeve to wipe her chin. She watched him still struggling to regain his senses for a moment before she stood and began to remove the rest of her clothes. He finally looked up to watch her strip, an interesting look coming upon his face. She crawled into his lap in the chair, unable to resist. She kissed him deeply, she ran her hands through his hair, she bit his lip and teasingly clawed at his black beard with her fingers.

“Garrett,” she moaned, her voice soft, desperate with her need. She wouldn’t tell him, couldn’t ever tell him she was thinking about his words that morning. She was thinking about everything they’d left in her bed, everything they hadn’t discussed after. She was remembering the tone of his voice, how unexpected his confession had been, how much she struggled then and now with responding, repeating the sentiment. _I can’t stand the thought – no one else can fuck you like this. Promise me._

Hawke wrapped his arms around her, he wound his fingers into her hair and kissed her until her breath was coming to her in gasping pants against his lips. He sat up from where he had lounged in the chair, bringing his clothed chest up to press tightly to her naked breasts. He held her for several long minutes in a passionate embrace before he stood from the chair, holding her to him. She circled his waist with her legs and he carried her a few steps from the chair. He didn’t carry her to the bed like she expected, instead he turned and walked to the nearest bit of bare wall that he could press her back against. “Mara,” he murmured, “how is it I’m already so hard again to fuck you? You drive me wild, you've ruined me.”

She giggled lightly against his kisses, enjoying the feeling of the cold, rough stone against her back. He held her easily to the wall, his large, strong hands and arms supporting her as though she weighed nothing as he guided himself into her. She moaned, her head falling back against the wall, away from his kiss. He pursued her lips, leaning forward and pressing his mouth to hers once more, searching its depths with his tongue.

“You taste like me,” he groaned, tugging her lip between his teeth. He thrust into her, holding her pinned to the wall, only able to be fucked by him without responding at all. She was certain her back was bruising against the stone, and she found she didn’t care. The feeling of him inside her erased everything, just as it always did, until she wasn’t aware Thedas existed beyond his movements within and against her. She’d never felt anything so exquisite in life as him fucking her while she fell apart around him, crying out his name as he whispered hers and found his own release inside her.


	10. Sleeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor and the Champion journey to Adamant, and add another element to their relationship along the way.

Mara went to bed earlier than everyone else, thoroughly exhausted from the first day of their journey and the previous night. Hawke hadn’t tried to beat their new record of nine, but he had kept her up late after he’d had her pinned to the wall. He’d spent their time in bed exploring her with his tongue and taking her so roughly that the headboard nearly fractured from how it had slammed repeatedly against the wall. They’d collapsed together, and he’d tangled himself up in her limbs as he held her against him so they could fall asleep. Before dawn he’d roused her from sleep with kisses and taken her impatiently after he’d woken up wanting her, and he’d left her breathless. They’d separated soon after and prepared to leave, to lead the Inquisition’s forces to the Western Approach, to Adamant Fortress.

She was anxious, the whole day they had traveled her stomach had been in knots. She couldn’t eat supper, she couldn’t sit and listen to Varric tell stories. What they were about to attempt in a few days felt impossible, and she couldn’t get the feeling out of her system. Something in her gut was telling her things wouldn’t go how they planned. Frustrated, she had quickly set up her tent and retired without another word to any of her companions or advisors. She noticed Hawke watching her from where he sat speaking with Varric and Stroud, but he made no move to approach her.

Once inside her tent she stripped down to her smallclothes and climbed under the blankets on her sleeping mat, trying to calm herself and get some sleep. She covered her eyes with her hand and took deep breaths, but her stomach still felt like a druffalo was trampling through it. She flopped herself over onto her stomach and buried her head under her small pillow, trying to block out the anxiety. Sleep eluded her, though, and so she kept her head under her pillow in a futile attempt to avoid the outside world.

After a long time alone with her troubling thoughts, she suddenly felt something pull the blankets off of her. She jerked and lifted her head from under the pillow as strong, hot hands slid her smallclothes down her legs, fingers caressing her skin intimately as they did.

“Garrett,” she whispered when she recognized his touch.

He lay down and pulled the blankets back over both of them, just as naked as she now was. “I thought you’d be asleep, pet,” he murmured, and he snuggled on his side to face her as she lay on her stomach. “You retired over an hour ago. Trouble sleeping? Did I not wear you out enough last night, or this morning?”

She rested her head on her pillow, facing his as she sighed. “I’m…worried,” she admitted quietly.

“You didn’t forget to take the witherstalk potion, did you?” he asked, and she couldn’t determine the look in his eyes. It looked like a mixture of humor and serious concern, but something else lurked beneath it.

“What? No, no – I haven’t,” she frowned and shook her head a little, amused at his reaction. She realized too that she hadn’t actually told him that she was taking the potion, and found it interesting that he so readily assumed she did. Always so cocky, she mused.

“Ah, so not about anything serious, then,” he chuckled.

“Garrett, how did you…how did you deal with it all?” she asked softly.

Hawke considered her carefully and reached a hand up to stroke the hair off her cheek and behind her ear. She was reminded of the vague recollection she had of waking up to him doing the same. “Normally I’d say something like ‘booze and whores,’ but honestly,” he paused. He kept his fingers tracing her cheek, eventually running one down to trace her lips. “It wasn’t easy. I had several friends who helped see me through. I knew too that I was fighting for what was right, in the end. That helped. And for a – for a time I had my family, my mother – to look out for. It kept me going, kept me fighting, trying to provide for them.”

He fell silent and continued gently stroking her face. She saw his brow furrow, saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. Then the humor suddenly returned to his face, almost like he was trying to make sure she didn’t notice the pause. “Of course, humor, booze, and whores also helped.”

She shook her head a little. “Is that really it? Just humor and friendship, family?”

“Don’t forget sex,” he added.

“Didn’t you struggle at all? Didn’t you have moments you doubted? You went through so much,” she sighed, wishing he’d take her seriously.

“Occasionally,” he said slowly. “My time in Kirkwall, everything I faced – it was a bit more spread out than what you’re having to deal with. I was there for ten years, it didn’t fall apart all at once – you’ve been dealing with all of this for not even half a year.”

She heaved another sigh. “It feels like a lifetime, but also just a blink of an eye.”

“I can only imagine,” he reached over and took her hand from where it rested on the pillow, pulling it to his lips. He slowly brushed her fingers with his lips, his beard tickling her knuckles as he did so. She smiled softly at him, feeling slightly better in response to his touch. “I wasn’t kidding about sex helping, though. Stress relief may be just what you need.”

He pressed his lips to the soft spot between two of her fingers and slowly teased his tongue against her skin. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she enjoyed his slow movements. He leaned down to nibble her ear, causing her to moan softly, goose bumps spreading across her skin as she felt his hot breath and beard tickle her. Hawke rolled over on top of her after a few moments, propping himself on his elbows and using his knees to spread her legs before he pressed himself to her back.

Mara lifted to support herself on her elbows as well, and he took advantage of her proximity to slide his mouth greedily down her throat, ending in soft kisses on her shoulder. He moved his hips gently, searching her out, and when he finally found her entrance he slid himself inside easily.

“Mara – you’re always so ready for me,” he purred as he began thrusting slowly into her. “Do you know how amazing that is, how amazing you are? How good you feel?”

He was speaking quietly into her ear, still pressed against her naked back, still moving slowly and gently. He pushed her hair over her shoulder and spread kisses along every inch of her neck and shoulders that he could. His hands found hers and he intertwined his fingers with hers, holding her hands as he kept up his leisurely pace.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against the bend of her neck as he scattered it with kisses. “You’ve done so much – you’ll be fine, you’re too good not to be.”

She gave a soft giggle, realizing what he was doing. He wasn’t just taking her to help with stress relief; he was trying to allay her doubts, trying to bolster her confidence. He was relentless with his attention, his mouth constantly either singing her praises or sucking gently on every inch of skin within reach. When he noticed she was getting close he released one of her hands and slid his hand under her, stroking her as best he could in the constricted space, still muttering compliments and pretty words as he worked on making her come. She gave a soft gasping moan as she felt her release, and he buried his teeth into the skin on her neck, sucking and biting her roughly to leave a mark while he finished with her.

“Garrett, you ass,” she panted when they were both finished.

“What?” he feigned innocence. “It’ll help take your mind off your stress while you worry instead about everyone staring at your neck.”

“You’re the worst,” she mumbled, burying her face in her pillow, trying to regain her senses and take deep breaths.

He rested his head beside her, still crushing her with his weight on top of her. “You know you don’t really think that,” he teased, his voice muffled and slow. “Feel better, pet?”

She grumbled incoherently for a moment before she said, “I was until you marked me up like that.”

He chuckled and rolled off of her, pulling her with him so he could curve himself against her back, holding her tightly to him as they drifted off. “You’ll get over it.”

The next day of the journey was just as uneventful, though slightly less stressful to Mara as she did her best not to focus on what lie ahead. She kept her hair over her shoulder to hide the love bite Hawke had left on her, and she occasionally smoothed her waves just to be sure it really was covered. He caught her doing this a few times and smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at her before looking away.  _ That man _ , she would muse to herself, shaking her head in lighthearted exasperation.

She retired early to her tent again, settling into the blankets and dozing off instantly, finally feeling more exhausted than anxious. Sometime later she awoke to Hawke climbing under the covers with her, naked once more.

“Sorry, pet – I didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmured, and he leaned over and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “I can tell how exhausted you are, go back to sleep.”

“Garrett,” she frowned, looking up at him suspiciously. “Are you just here to sleep?”

For an answer he simply pulled her closer to his chest and wrapped himself around her, rubbing his chin against her hair.

“Garrett,” she tried again, “where’s your tent?”

“I’m in my tent,” he muttered. “Now go to sleep.”

“Wait, what?”

“Sleep, Mara.”

“Did you not set up a tent?”

“You set it up for me. Thank you for that, by the way,” he teased. “I promise to help tomorrow - I owe you two nights’ set up, don’t I?”

“You…you didn’t even bring a tent, did you?” she tried to raise her gaze to his, her attempt hindered by how closely he was nestled against the front of her.

“Of course I did. You’ve been carrying it for me.”

For some reason, she couldn’t believe it. They had never spent a night together just to sleep. They had slept beside each other, but that had usually been due to the fact that they had spent so long fucking they passed out exhausted, unable to take the time to separate to their respective beds. Or at least, that was what she had assumed was happening each time they slept beside each other. Now that she thought about it, he always made sure to tangle himself up in her before they went to sleep, even that very first night. The fact that he hadn’t even brought a tent and had just assumed, had just planned to share hers, filled her with a curious mixture of emotions. On the one hand, she couldn’t believe his gall. On the other hand, she couldn’t believe he would act so possessive, like they belonged in the same tent together even if they weren’t fucking.

“You ass,” she told him. “Has anyone seen you retiring to my tent and not setting up your own?”

“Maybe the patrols. Varric and Stroud saw, last night when I came in to bed. I think Sullen was still out by the fire tonight, but I wasn’t paying too much attention to him,” he murmured, and he continued to try to get closer to her with his body.

“So you’ve just been brazenly walking into my tent the last two nights,” she realized, and closed her eyes, wondering at the gossip that must be circulating camp.

“Everything I do is brazen,” he chuckled. “You know, Mara, if you keep talking and don’t go to sleep, I’m going to get ideas. I thought you were exhausted, but if you’re awake I have a few things we could do before we go to sleep.”

She sighed and closed her eyes. She did, in fact, just want to sleep at the moment and didn’t want to encourage him to pursue her. If he tried to she wouldn’t want to resist him, but she really was exhausted.

“Good night, pet,” he murmured, his voice soft and sending a shiver through her at the tone.

“Good night, ass,” she replied, trying to shake the feeling his cuddling form was stirring within the deeper recesses of her mind.

* * *

“Why did you have to be so damned beautiful,” she heard a deep voice whisper softly near her. She was slowly coming out of a deep sleep, but she felt positive that he didn’t know that. She kept her eyes shut and tried to maintain her deep breathing as though she was still asleep, curious as to what Hawke was doing.

He was stroking her hair, pushing it off her face and playfully spreading the long waves out on the pillow behind her head. He traced the shell of her ear with a finger as he gave a soft sigh. “If Varric had just told me, I would have joined the Inquisition in a heartbeat,” he continued his quiet musings. “Everything he told me couldn’t come close to how magnificent you really are.”

She tried to keep her brows from furrowing as she listened to him. What was he talking about? Varric had told him about her? Before he came to Skyhold?

He chuckled a little to himself. “And here I thought I couldn’t ever care again, not after -” there was movement like he was shaking his head at himself. “Instead I’m lying here talking to myself like a loony imbecile, since I can’t say these things to you…fuck, Hawke, get it together. Soon you’ll be like Anders, having full conversations with a voice in your head.”

Mara’s heart was racing as she listened to him, and she had to focus to try to keep up the deep breaths she’d been taking to feign sleep.

“Maybe…maybe once this is all over,” he sighed, and didn’t finish the statement. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, and snuggled closer like he was going to try to sleep.

Mara felt touched by what he’d been saying, confused and excited, unsure of what in Thedas he meant by any of it. She rubbed her cheek on the pillow and gave a soft, incoherent murmur, trying to appear as if she was slowly waking up. She fluttered her eyelashes a few times and looked up to see him peering down at her.

“Hello, pet,” he greeted, his voice quickly taking on his usual humor in its tone, the softer notes hidden beneath cockiness once more.

“Is it morning?” she asked, forcing her voice to sound sleepy and slow.

“No, no, still a few more hours until sunrise,” he assured her. He was staring down at her and his eyes began to sparkle as he smirked. “Need help falling back asleep?”

She giggled lightly and tilted her face so he could easily reach her lips, silently trying to encourage him. After what she’d just heard him saying, she felt an empty ache low within her, a desperate desire to have him inside her. He easily took the hint and leaned down to kiss her, slowly moving his lips against hers and slipping his tongue between them to search hers out. He rolled them over so that he was on top of her, and began to caress one of her breasts. He slid his mouth down her neck and took her nipple between his lips, swirling it with his tongue and lightly nibbling and sucking at it until she was gasping. He moved his attention to her other breast as his other hand slid down between her legs to excite her.

Mara bit her lip to stifle the gasp that escaped her throat as he began stroking her sensitive nub with his fingers, taking a moment to run along her whole slit to spread her excitement between her lips. He focused on her sensitive pearl as she fought the moans being elicited by his touch, and he pulled his mouth from her breasts so he could smirk down at her struggling to stay quiet.

Hawke slid two fingers inside her and used his thumb to continue the pace he had begun at the top of her slit. It didn't take long before she clapped a hand over her mouth to cover the cries she made as she fell apart easily under his touch. He was still smirking at her as he removed his fingers and lowered himself to her, thrusting easily into her and groaning lightly as he pushed in to the hilt. She was still throbbing from her release, and he paused for a moment, his eyes shut as he took a deep breath before he started moving inside her.

He covered her face, neck, and chest with kisses, his hands wandered everywhere, his hips rolled against hers at an insistent pace until she again had to keep a hand over her mouth to stay quiet. “Mara, Mara,” he murmured against her ear. “You’re magnificent.” His voice was barely audible, and he didn’t know she had heard him say that word not long before when he thought she was asleep. The feelings it stirred within her pushed her to the edge.

“Garrett,” she moaned breathlessly as she tightened her legs around his hips and clutched his back with her nails. “Tell me, tell me you -” she began to beg, but she bit her lip and couldn’t finish the request. She didn’t want him to know she had heard him, she couldn’t allow herself to ask that. She saw him look down at her, his brow furrowed a little in confusion, but she closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of him within her instead of the words she had overheard. After a few more moments she arched her back against him and felt her toes curl. She gave soft cries she didn’t bother to try to stifle, letting him hear her come, not caring if anyone else heard as well.

She was surprised when he didn’t finish as well, and as she tried to regain her senses she felt him kneel back on his heels and readjust their position before he continued his thrusts. He was holding her hips in his hands to steady her, and she pushed with her feet to respond, each thrust setting her body aflame after her two recent orgasms. She looked up to see him staring intently at her face, and when she locked eyes with him he began touching her again, holding her gaze as he tried to lead her to her release again. It didn’t take long before she let out a soft moan as she felt her mind go black and she convulsed around him for a third time. He went deep and finally came within her, thrusting slowly through his orgasm to prolong it.

When he was done he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him but keeping himself sheathed inside her. He kissed her forehead but said nothing, and she fought the urge to say anything to break the silence. She wasn’t sure what he would think if he knew she had heard him. Instead she closed her eyes and relaxed into his arms, still joined to him, her smaller form resting on his strong chest as she fell back asleep.


	11. The Fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fade leads to painful revelations and decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to get bogged down in the Fade, so a lot of canon is condensed. Also I'm horrible at writing fight scenes so...I tried to condense that too so you didn't have to suffer through my attempts to describe battle. Instead this chapter is trying to focus only on the angsty bits of the Fade it needs to for their relationship. (Yes, sorry, we're getting into the angsty bits now. Trust me, I wouldn't lie on the tags - this will be a happy ending...just not yet.)
> 
> xx,  
> L

“If this is the afterlife, the Chantry owes me an apology. This looks nothing like the Maker’s bosom,” Hawke quipped, looking around himself, utterly bewildered. Mara was standing nearby but they were on different rock ledges, the area around them not seeming to behave normally since to her it looked like Hawke was standing on the wall.

“Where are we?” she heard Stroud say behind her.

“I think…Maker, is this the Fade?” Mara asked, looking about herself wildly. She felt like she had been here before, but she couldn’t remember when. Trying to recall was like trying to catch a fading dream upon waking. She glanced behind her and saw Dorian, Varric, and Cassandra all looking around as well; they seemed frightened.

“Well…shit,” Hawke sighed. “I think you’re right.”

“We shouldn’t be here,” Stroud was shaking his head.

“I agree,” Cassandra muttered. It was odd to the usually stalwart Seeker looking so disconcerted.

Mara tried to steady her shaking hands. They had been falling, Clarel had blown up the bridge trying to take down the archdemon, and everyone around her had been scrambling to find solid ground. When Mara saw the ground so far below her, rushing toward her, she’d done the first thing she could think of and had thrown her marked palm out before her – and opened a rift.

“The Wardens’ ritual was trying to pull something through, something big not far from where we were. Maybe we can get back that way,” Hawke suggested. He and Mara locked eyes and she nodded.

“It’s worth a try,” she agreed.

“That way, then,” Stroud pointed at what looked like a large, swirling rift.

They began to make their way slowly through the raw Fade, following a path until they came upon a figure that looked like the Divine. Hawke tried to insist that she not listen to the woman, tried to convince her she was a spirit or a demon, but Mara couldn’t help but be intrigued. The figure of the Divine said her memories of the Temple of Sacred Ashes were nearby, and she had to find them. She needed to remember – how much would be explained if she could just remember what had happened? Maybe she would know what Corypheus wanted; maybe it would explain how she survived, why she had the Anchor.

As she approached where the memories were, a clicking sound began and they turned to see spiders and spirits making their way toward them, determined to stop her from collecting her memories.

“Spiders? In the Fade?” Hawke said as he twirled his staff to get ready for a fight. “Why do they always have to be so damn big?”

“You’re seeing spiders?” Stroud asked.

“Can you not see them?” Hawke threw fire at the nearest spider. “There – now it’s on fire, surely you can’t miss it.”

“That’s not a spider, that’s a -” but what Stroud was seeing wasn’t explained as they got caught up in defending themselves from the attack.

Mara moved quickly through the battle, gracefully sneaking up on the spirits and spiders while the others distracted them, taking advantage and attacking them with her long daggers. She wove her way through the fight and touched glowing orbs as she went, trying to collect her memories before more attacked. When she touched the last, the Fade shifted and twisted to form her memories, showing them all what had happened in the Temple of Sacred Ashes, revealing the secrets she'd been missing.

“It was the Wardens,” she gasped when the memory stopped, and she looked at Stroud, her eyes wide.

“I – I had no idea,” Stroud muttered. “This is worse than I imagined.”

“You don’t say,” Hawke gritted out, glaring at Stroud. “Your order helped kill the fucking Divine!”

“Corypheus has them under his sway, he must have convinced them -”

“It doesn’t matter why – blood magic is  _ never _ the answer,” Hawke interrupted, his voice rising.

“Ga – Hawke, please, we need to go,” Mara moved to step between the two men.

“If it could end Blights, I think it would be worth the price,” Stroud ignored Mara’s interruption, turning to face Hawke.

“Stroud -” Mara tried again.

“Nothing is worth that price – you can convince yourself of whatever you like, but nothing justifies -”

“Garrett!” Mara shouted, and he turned and glared at her. “You can argue about this later, right now we need to get out of here.”

He returned his glare to Stroud and swallowed hard, his cheeks flexing. “Trust me, we will.”

“Ahhhh, hello Inquisitor,” a smooth voice rang out through the air around them, causing them all to spin in circles, looking for its source. “I see you found your way back to my little corner of the Fade.”

“Who are you?” Mara shouted into the air.

“The owner of this particular little corner of the Fade. You are in my domain, and your fears are proving to be the most delicious feast I’ve had for quite some time,” the voice replied.

“A demon,” Stroud muttered.

“We should get going,” Hawke said, and they resumed their path toward the large rift ahead of them.

The dangerously honeyed voice of the demon continued echoing around them, taking it in turns to taunt them all, trying to rattle them. Mara noticed her companions faltering, but she tried to shake off the taunts it hurled at her, not allowing it to get under her skin. It said it fed on fear, she needed to push on and ignore it. But then…

“Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall,” the voice began, and Hawke and Mara both slowed in their steps a bit.

“Oh, is it my turn now? Lovely,” Hawke quipped, but Mara noticed the forced humor in his voice. Her heart was racing, curious what fears the Nightmare could use to taunt the Champion of Kirkwall.

“Still trying to make up for all of your many failures, I see,” the Nightmare continued. “Do you think that will ease the ache in your soul, the pain from failing your entire family, or the heartbreak you suffered when she left you?”

Mara noticed Hawke’s cheeks tense, his fist tightened on his staff, but he didn’t respond.

“You told her you cared for her, you trusted her,” the Nightmare jeered. “Yet as soon as you needed her, she took the artifact for herself and ran. She never came back to you, and you know it’s because she never cared like you did. How can you trust after that? How can you believe anyone else could care after the way Isabela abandoned you like you were nothing? After everything you’d been through together, everything you'd done, everything you’d told her…”

Varric cleared his throat, as if he was trying to find something to say. Mara had slowed her pace, her mind racing. She thought she had heard the whole tale from Varric, yet how had she never known Isabela had the artifact the Arishok needed? Varric had left it out, he hadn’t told her; he’d said they never found out what or where it was. She had had no idea Hawke and Isabela were lovers, nor that she’d left him like that.

She looked at Hawke only to see his eyes were shut and he looked like he was taking deep breaths before he continued walking.

“You’re trying so hard now not to let her in, not to let her know – you were fascinated by her from the first, weren’t you?” the Nightmare added. “But you’re scared, I can feel it, I’m feasting on it – you’re scared that she’ll leave as well. Or even worse – that you’ll fail her, too. Like you’ve failed and lost everyone else you cared about. Bethany. Carver. Your mother. Anders, even – the friend who betrayed you. You know eventually you’ll add the name ‘Mara’ to your list of failures - if she doesn’t leave you like Isabela did, before you have a chance to fail her.”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” Hawke finally growled, and without looking at any of them he picked up his pace and continued on. Mara faltered in her steps, staring at his back as he hurried ahead of the rest of them. Varric shot her a worried frown, but she pressed her lips together and didn’t say anything. She was hurt, and surprised – why hadn’t anyone told her? Why hadn’t he?

They made their way silently through the rest of the raw Fade, all of them shaken and struggling because of the Nightmare’s needling words, the way he pulled their fears up from the bottoms of their hearts. Mara was having trouble looking Hawke’s way; she hadn’t been bothered by her own taunting by the demon, but the revelations of his fears had cut her to the core. She hadn’t known until that moment that she really had begun to truly care about him, Garrett, beyond just attraction and infatuation with the ‘Champion of Kirkwall.’ But she was in pain knowing he hadn’t thought to trust her with any of this information himself, that he hadn’t let himself show any of the emotions the Nightmare had hinted he was feeling.

“Of course,” Hawke muttered with a deep sigh when he pulled up short at the top of a staircase. They had finally reached the rift they were searching for, but they had come face to face with the Nightmare. Hawke twirled his staff in one hand and summoned fire to his fingertips as the rest of them began to ready themselves behind him for battle as well.

The fight was harrowing, the Nightmare continuing to taunt them as they battled, other spirits and fear demons charging them as they tried to take the Nightmare down. Mara tried to weave through the battle, but a cluster of fear demons cornered her. She spun her daggers in her hands, ready to start taking the spider-shaped demons out as they charged, but suddenly they were all swept up in flames, burning to a crisp before her. She looked up to see Hawke facing her, standing away from the rest of the battle, the dangerous look in his eyes she’d noticed before glinting in the light of his magic. The gleam looked fiercely protective as he stared at her.

She swallowed and nodded gratitude to him before she charged back into the fray with the Nightmare. After several more difficult, fast-paced moments of combat, Mara sank her daggers into the Nightmare’s heart and it gave an eerie wail, finally collapsing, dead. She pulled her daggers out, trying to catch her breath as she wiped them off on her armor.

“Let’s get out of here,” she muttered, turning to lead the way to the rift behind them.

And out of nowhere a giant form came into view, a monstrous demon blocking their path to the rift. They were about to be trapped.

“We need to clear a path!” Stroud called, and he looked at Mara. “I’ll clear it for you, Inquisitor – the Wardens caused this mess, a Warden must -”

“A Warden must help them rebuild, Stroud,” Hawke argued, and he conjured fire in his hand again, getting ready to take on the demon. “That should be your job.”

Mara’s heart stopped as she realized what he was trying to do. “No, wait -”

“Go. Get out of here, Mara,” he said firmly.

“No, Garrett -” she looked desperately to Stroud, who was readying his sword and shield, still determined to stay instead. “Stroud, please,” she begged desperately, her voice catching on the emotion in her throat.

“It has been an honor, Inquisitor,” the Warden said solemnly, and he charged past Hawke, knocking the Champion back and distracting the monstrous demon ahead of them.

“Stroud, no!” Hawke roared, but Varric and Cassandra grabbed his arms and they pulled him to the rift, following Mara and Dorian as they fled.


	12. Hawke's Favor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Champion and the Inquisitor deal with the aftermath of the Fade.

Mara pushed through the crowd of Inquisition forces and Wardens in the courtyard who had been listening to her pronouncement on the Wardens’ fate. She was too upset to worry about whether or not she had made the right choice, about whether or not she should have banished the Wardens instead of enlisting them for aid. The Nightmare still weighed heavily on her mind, and she’d seen Hawke glowering at her as she spoke to those gathered in the courtyard. All she knew was that she wanted to be alone, that she needed to get away from his piercing sapphire gaze.

She began to run once she was out of the courtyard, intending to make it back to their camp, to sneak away before he could follow. She should have known better, she realized, as she heard footsteps charging after her down the battlements. She increased her pace into a sprint, but his legs were longer than hers and he soon caught up.

“Damn it, Mara, don’t run away from me,” he growled as he caught her arm.

“Let go of me,” she cried, trying to pull away without turning to face him.

“No,” he said, his tone dangerous. He held her upper arm in a vice-like grip and pulled her with him, continuing their path through the fortress and down to the Inquisition’s encampment. He led her to the tent they had been sharing and hastily opened the flaps, quickly pulling her inside and releasing her. She stumbled a bit away from him and he stood before the tent’s opening so that she couldn’t leave.

“Why –  _ why _ didn’t you listen to me?” he demanded, and his voice was so perilously low her eyes widened in surprise as she listened to him.

“I -” she began, but she couldn’t find the words. She knew why, she knew the way her heart had stopped when he’d walked forward, intending for her to leave him behind.

“The Wardens needed Stroud, I can’t believe you would leave him behind! I’m expendable -” his voice was rising.

“No, you’re not!” she interrupted, then bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to say it.

“Are you telling me you let Stroud die because -” he sounded incredulous.

“I made a decision – I can’t change it now,” she interrupted, her own voice rising with emotion.

“A stupid fucking decision!” he roared. “The Wardens need leadership, I’m just a -”

“Just a what? Are you upset I didn’t let you sacrifice yourself in a blaze of glory, upset I didn’t let you punish yourself with death for your failures, after being taunted by that demon?”

“Don’t you  _ dare _ accuse me of having some sort of – some sort of death wish,” he pointed his finger to emphasize his words, taking a few steps toward her.

“Why not? It’s obvious that’s what that was – sacrifice yourself and play the hero because you think you’ve failed too much and don’t deserve to live. Or worse, don’t want to,” she shouted. He looked stricken by her words, momentarily speechless. “Go ahead, be angry with me! You don’t know what it’s been like, having to make decisions like this all the time!”

“Like what, saving the man who fucks you instead of the man who could help guide the Grey Wardens to recovery? To help them resist Corypheus when Thedas needs them most? Those kinds of stupid fucking decisions?” he roared.

“‘The man who fucks me?’ You bastard!” Mara was livid, and picked up the nearest object she could – one of her extra gauntlets which she had left beside her satchel. She took aim at his head and hurled it as hard as she could.

“Damn it, Mara,” he swore as he threw a hand up and stopped it with his magic before it hit him, throwing it aside midair. He took a few more steps toward her, just as livid as she was.

“Don’t you dare try to lecture me about my decisions! You don’t know what it’s been like, having all of Thedas relying on me!” her voice cracked; she felt close to tears as she took a few steps back. “You only had to try to save one lousy city and you couldn’t even do that! I’m busy cleaning up your fucking mess because you couldn’t even stop one city from being blown to shit by one of your own friends!”

He stepped forward, his eyes almost sparking with danger. As he approached she could feel the air around him heat, radiating off of him as his magic began to flare. “Don’t you – don’t you dare -”

She threw her shoulders back and lifted her chin in challenge as he stepped closer. “What are you going to do, set me on fire? Go ahead, save me the trouble and put me out of my misery – you don’t know what it’s been like, you’d be doing me a favor.” Her eyes were welling with tears as she stared up at him, her voice low and desperate.

He was glaring fiercely at her, his blue eyes still sparking with danger, the air still sweltering as if they were standing in the middle of a blacksmith’s forge. He reached up and gripped her shoulders, his fingers painfully tight as he pulled her closer to him. “Don’t ever say that again,” he growled.

“What, that I’m cleaning up your mess? What else would you call the events in Kirkwall?” she spat.

“Not that,” he gritted out, pulling her against him, indecipherable emotion in his eyes. “Don’t you ever – don’t you  _ ever _ suggest someone put you out of your misery like that again.”

His voice tugged at something inside of her, and she swallowed hard, trying to push back the feelings that were threatening to overflow. “What do you care?” she said, her voice shaking. “I’m just a poor substitute for Isabela anyway.”

“Is that what you think?” he asked, his grip tightening even more on her shoulders until she winced in pain. “Is that what you’re really upset about?”

“I’m upset because all of Thedas is relying on me, and you’re screaming at me about the difficult choices I keep having to make,” she reached up and tried to push against his chest to free herself from his painful grasp. “Let go of me, Hawke -”

“No,” he growled, fiercely maintaining his grasp on her. “Not until you tell me why you saved me.”

“I made a decision - and that was it,” she muttered, still pushing uselessly against his chest.

“It was more than that,” he suggested loudly.

“No it wasn’t!” she cried, her voice rising again.

“Tell me, Mara!” he shook her a little.

“No!”

“Then why bring up Isabela? If you don’t care about me, why does that bother you?”

“It doesn’t,” she lied, her hands still pressing against his hard chest. She was going to cry, and she hated herself for it. She hated how upset she’d been by the Nightmare’s revelations, by its taunting. She hated how he’d tried to sacrifice himself to save her. She hated that she’d had to sacrifice a good man, how she’d had to choose between them at all. But most of all she hated how pleadingly he was looking at her, when she was stinging too much from the fact that he hadn’t told her. She hated the jealous way she felt like she was nothing to him compared to the woman who had left him behind and broken his heart.

“You saved me because you care,” he said firmly. It wasn’t a question.

“No,” she lied again, turning her face away from his. The tears that had been threatening to overflow finally began to run down her cheeks.

“Damn it why won’t you just say it?” he demanded again, his voice tearing through her.

But she pressed her lips together, still too hurt to admit it, still too proud to tell him that her feelings were hurt, that she cared and wanted him to care too.

“Tell me!”

“NO!” she screamed and she finally pushed him firmly enough that he let go of her and stumbled back.

For a long moment he stared at her, a pained look on his face as he watched her crying in front of him. Then he stepped forward again and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her as he crushed his lips against hers. He slanted his mouth and pushed his tongue between her lips, taking up a desperate rhythm against hers. Her fists were balled and pressing against his chest between them, and she continued to try to push him away, uselessly. Tears were still sliding down her cheeks unheeded.

“Maker be damned, Mara,” he said harshly, pulling away from her but holding her tight against him still. “You can’t kiss me like that and say you don’t care about me.”

She shook her head, her eyes shut tight as she continued to cry. But she stopped trying to push him away, instead letting her fists rest on his chest listlessly. Hawke lowered his mouth to hers once more, claiming it in a passionate kiss as he began to work on the fastenings of her armor. She hesitated for only a moment before she began to fumble with the clasps of his armor with her shaking hands as well.

The sounds of their heavy, gasping breaths against each other’s mouths were punctuated by the sound of metal buckles being unfastened and armor falling to the floor of the tent. When they’d stripped each other naked he placed his hands under her rear and lifted her, and she pulled her legs up to wrap around his waist. He walked the few steps to the sleeping mat and quickly knelt on it, laying her back and stretching out on top of her as he continued kissing her, his hands wandering everywhere.

“Mara,” he moaned against her lips, “tell me.”

“No,” she whispered, more tears streaming down her cheeks.

He kissed her more fiercely, he reached down and spread her legs and positioned himself between them. He felt with his fingers to see if she was excited and groaned when he found she was. “You can’t tell me you don’t want this, that you don’t want me,” he said, his voice strained.

She didn’t answer, she pressed her forehead against his shoulder and kept crying. She wanted to tell him, she wanted to tell him that she cared, that she had been scared to lose him. If he had told her before about everything, if he had told her about Isabela, maybe she would have. But she struggled with the idea that she was more to him than just a balm for his soul, a bandage for his broken heart, someone to fuck the pain away.

“Mara,” he whispered, his voice trying to command her attention. “Tell me why you won’t.”

“I can’t, I can’t – I refuse to be second best,” she gritted out, angry again, answering despite herself. “I won’t be your replacement for her. I won’t be your consolation.”

He halted, every movement of his body stilled as he stared down at her. He reached up and gently stroked the hair off her face, frowning as more tears slid down her cheeks. “You’re not,” he murmured. “I promise, I promise, Mara.”

A sob escaped her throat even though she tried to fight it. Still, she couldn’t say the words. She wished he’d told her, she wished he’d been more open with her. But now she felt too guarded to let him in, too on edge to confess.

Hawke lowered his lips to hers again and kissed her, and he seemed nearly desperate as he moved his mouth against hers. He finally positioned himself at her opening, and he hesitated for a moment to see if she stopped him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him more deeply; she couldn’t say the words, but she couldn’t deny him.

He slid himself into her in one stroke and pressed his forehead to hers, taking a steadying breath before he started moving. It was an urgent, desperate pace, trying to convey all of the unspoken feelings and emotions between them. Tears still slid from her eyes, and he ran his tongue softly on her cheeks to catch them. She was gasping, her arms clinging to his back as he moved within her.

“Mara,” he moaned softly against her, “tell me.”

“No,” she sobbed, her voice barely audible.

He twisted his hands into her hair, holding her face still as he kissed her once more. The intensity of his movements demanded all of her attention, and she began to feel everything else fading away, as it always did. Everything except for a desperate ache within her, a longing to be able to forget what she’d discovered in the Nightmare, to go back to how things were. His close presence on top of her was setting her nerves aflame, each thrust moving against her sweet spots until she began to whimper. He twisted one hand more tightly into her hair, the other grabbed one of her hands and interlaced his fingers with hers, pinning it above her head.

“Mara,  _ please _ -” he whispered, but he didn’t finish his pleading before she felt her back arch at the word, her legs tightening around him as she cried his name softly, but still she refused to confess it. He thrust deep within her and found his own release, murmuring his plea against her lips over and over as he did.

 

* * *

 

Mara didn’t remember falling asleep, she couldn’t recall anything but blackness for what felt like an eternity. She fluttered her tear-swollen eyelids several times, trying to adjust to the dim lighting around her until she could make out her surroundings. The first thing she became aware of was how cold she felt, even though she felt the blankets on top of her. She frowned a little and stretched her legs, and that was when she realized it.

She was alone.

She stared at the spot on the pillow beside her, the place where his head should be.

It took her a moment to see it, but when she did she slowly closed her fingers to take it in her grasp, pulling the object to her so she could study it more closely.

Her hand had been resting on the pillow, and a red silk scarf was lying across her palm. Once she pulled it closer, she saw that one end was embroidered with an intricate crest, and it didn’t take her any time to recognize it. The crest was all over  _ The Tale of the Champion _ , and she’d seen it on his satchel, on some of his belongings.

It was the Hawke family crest.

The sight tugged at her heartstrings, tears welling up in her eyes as she pulled it to her lips and pressed a kiss upon it.

He had left, she knew. And she didn’t know, couldn’t honestly tell, if she’d ever see him again.

Maybe if she had answered him, he would have stayed.


	13. Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Champion muses over how he heard about the Inquisition and the Herald as he starts his journey to Weisshaupt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right, you're now getting Hawke perspectives as well from here on out!
> 
> I feel terrible for how angsty that last chapter was (or do I? I don't, I'll be honest -I'm a mean, mean person ;-D) but it made me feel generous so have another for your Tuesday.
> 
> xx,  
> L
> 
> P.S. If it isn't obvious from my other fic, I LOVE Cullen. So I have to be really mean to him in this one because otherwise this runs the risk of turning into more Cullen smut - but in my mind he belongs to Evelyn. This one is pure Mara and Garrett.

Hawke pulled his traveling cloak about his shoulders, trying to get it adjusted before he mounted his horse. It wasn’t even dawn yet, but the patrols were moving about the camp through the fires and a few others were stirring. He’d hoped to leave before anyone saw him, but with a groan he realized he saw the person he wanted to run into least of all heading toward him. Just what he needed in his already blackened mood.

Commander Cullen stopped a few paces away, staring at him with a frown.

“What is it, Sullen?” Hawke drawled, trying to direct his terrible mood at the self-righteous Templar before him. At least it would be a good distraction to get under the other man’s skin.

“Are you leaving?” Cullen asked, his tone flat.

“Someone should get to Weisshaupt to tell the other Wardens what’s happened,” Hawke replied, readjusting his mount’s saddle before he pulled himself onto it.

Cullen stared at him for a moment, his frown deepening. “Did the Inquisitor ask you to go?”

Hawke felt his cheek muscles flinch and he gripped the reins tighter in his hands. He tried not to think about her sleeping figure in the tent not far from them, of how much he knew she’d hurt when she woke up alone.

“So you’re just leaving her like this,” Cullen inferred, the statement sounding harsh and accusatory.

“What do you care, Commander Curly?” Hawke raised an eyebrow at the former Knight-Commander. “Unless you’ve just been waiting for your opportunity? Been too long since you could take advantage of someone else’s pain for your own benefit? Can’t wait to try to ply her for her favor now that I’ll be out of the picture?”

Cullen’s face took on a dangerous scowl. “Maybe it is best if you just leave. All you’ve ever done is cause grief everywhere you go.”

“Still chafing from my report? Or maybe the way I exposed your dear Commander for what she was, the paranoid lunatic you followed so blindly?” Hawke’s eyes squinted dangerously. “Or is it as simple as jealousy that I fucked the beautiful Inquisitor before you?”

The Commander’s fist gripped the pommel of his sword as he glared at Hawke, his eyes shooting daggers. “How dare you -”

“Don’t worry, Sullen, I’m getting out of your curly hair,” Hawke sighed, not as satisfied by irritating the other man as he normally was. “Good luck with your Inquisition. Try not to start an Exalted March on anything.”

He smirked at the irate Templar and guided his horse into a trot, riding out of the camp, away from her.

For several hours he rode along the road, lost in thought and barely paying attention to his surroundings. He didn’t check his map, he just knew for the moment he needed to head north on the road. It was going to take some time to reach Weisshaupt, and he could worry about particulars later in the journey.

He stopped at midday to eat, sitting under the shade of a lone tree near a tiny stream for his horse. Food wasn’t terribly fascinating to him at the moment, but he knew he needed to eat before he continued and made himself nibble at the rations he’d brought along. As he ate he let his mind wander, musing on the way the few clouds above him reminded him of her eyes. They were so beautifully grey; metallic like a precious metal as they flashed with her wit and determination, or smoky and stormy when she was aroused. He remembered how they appeared when she had glanced up at him from between his legs, his hard cock between her full lips –

He shook himself and sighed as another image pushed that one aside; the image of her crying, hurt because he hadn’t been able to open up to her. He wondered what she would have done if he’d told her sooner, if he’d let himself say so many of the things he had held back. If he’d let himself admit what he’d tried so desperately to get her to admit.

After eating what he could he got on his mount once more and continued on his way, his mind still wandering where it would. He rode for several more hours, but as it began to get dark he noticed the sounds of movement behind the boulders on the sides of the road he was following, and he slowed his horse’s pace as he listened. He could hear whispering, deep voices calling softly to each other.

Bandits, he realized, and he heaved a deep sigh.

“You can come out, now,” he called into the encroaching darkness. “You’ve made enough noise you might as well just say hello.”

Silence greeted his words, followed by what sounded like someone hitting someone else and several voices hissing at one another.

“Listen, I have places to be, so let’s just get this over with,” Hawke gritted out.

“Pretty cocky fer someone travelin’ alone, eh?” a rough voice finally greeted him as several bandits came out from where they hid and blocked his path.

Hawke gave a stealthy glance, making note of how many bandits and where they were. He counted six, and only two were behind him. “Yes, well, I’m just trying to get on with my journey, and I can tell you’re amateurs seeing as you made so much noise trying to get your ambush set up. How about we just go our separate ways before this goes terribly for you?”

The bandit who had spoken before gave a bark of laughter, and several of the others followed his lead. Hawke smirked. It was always so easy to single out the leader.

“Oy, you really are a cocky one, ain’t ya?” the leader sneered. “But we’ve got ye outnumbered, see, and so we’ll be takin’ yer personal effects and yer horse for our supper.”

“You know, I normally dislike bandits just on principle,” Hawke drawled, “but the fact that you want to eat my horse…that’s just a new low, as far as I’m concerned. His name’s Thunder, and I think you’ve hurt his feelings – look at the poor thing, he’s positively distraught.”

The bandit leader frowned at him and glanced at his horse, not quite sure what to think of his sarcasm. Hawke sighed a little; he had yet to find a bandit with enough wit to understand sarcasm. Or when he was about to be easily beaten.

“Think yer funny, do ya?” the bandit leader finally asked, but he sounded unsure of himself, like he wasn’t sure if it actually was supposed to be a joke.

“Normally, yes,” Hawke replied. “But today I’m not really in the mood. I’d much rather you just let me be on my way, but if you insist on dying I suppose I can put an end to your pathetic lives. It’s really up to you. One last chance.”

“Are you stupid or somethin’? There’s six of us -” the leader began.

But Hawke had finally had enough, and he lit the man on fire. The leader screamed and threw himself on the ground as he tried to put the flames out. The other bandits descended into chaos, running in circles, crashing into one another as they tried to escape. Hawke watched them for a minute, his hand poised, flames still held between his fingers. They were scattering, running for their lives, very obviously unprepared for their target to fight back, especially with magic. He shook his head and lowered his hand, deciding they weren’t worth it. He guided his horse back into a trot and continued on his way, leaving the bandits behind.

He rode for another hour until he finally found a spot to make camp for the night, and he gathered some wood and lit a fire with his magic before he pulled his tent from his satchel to set it up. The memory of her bewilderment at him sharing her tent made him smile despite how bittersweet it now felt. He had packed one, but he’d known he wouldn’t use it on their journey to Adamant. Not when she was so close by.

Hawke sat and ate some more of the food that he’d brought, deciding that he’d try hunting for some meat the next day. When he finished eating his supper he reached into his satchel, looking for his parchment and quill. Instead he found the bundle of letters he’d been carrying for months, and he untied the twine around them, unable to resist.

The letters were worn, now, from how much he’d reread them all. He carefully unfolded the first and held it up to the campfire.

 

> _H,_
> 
> _You know, you could send a less ostentatious messenger next time, or I swear Cassandra is going to start getting suspicious. Or maybe I should say more suspicious. I’ve been waiting everyday for her to start demanding to dig through my personal effects to find your letters._
> 
> _You probably heard about the Inquisition, I’m certain the town criers all across Thedas are talking about it, even where you are. I seem to have gotten caught up in it, after what happened at the Conclave. The Inquisition may be enough to stop that damned hole in the sky, though. I’m not much for religion or holy crusades, but I don’t know…Maybe this is worth sticking around for._
> 
> _Speaking of religion, I’m sure you’ve also heard of the Herald of Andraste, whenever anyone talks about the Inquisition. Remember the girl I told you about, the one who walked out of the Fade with a glowing hand? That’s her. She managed to do something to the Breach with that glowing mark of hers, and stopped it spreading. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it myself. I’ll leave it to the Chantry to decide if she really is the ‘Herald of Andraste’ but from what I can tell, she either has the best or the absolute worst luck of anyone in the history of Thedas. I’ll let you know when I figure out which._
> 
> _I’ve spent some time talking to her though, and I have to say, I think you’d like her. She laid some Chantry cleric low with just her words when he insulted her – she’s almost as much of a smartass as you are. I think she has you beat on tact, though. She seemed really keen to talk about you and Kirkwall once she realized who I was, but don’t worry, I didn’t tell her where you were. I couldn’t tell if Cassandra had sent her over to ask or not. The kid seemed genuinely curious about you, but of course better safe than sorry, so I told her you’d disappeared._
> 
> _Try not to drown your sorrows in too much booze and whores. I won’t be a part of this Inquisition forever and you still owe me a few drinks._
> 
> _V_

  

Hawke shuffled through a few of the letters, looking for another one in particular. He found it and unfolded it, browsing for the passage he was looking for.

 

> _She’s the Herald of Andraste and you’re asking me about her tits? Do they not have whores where you are or did you already blow all of your money on them? Besides you know me, the only woman for me is Bianca, so I’m not sure what I can tell you about the Herald’s tits. I know she has some, and everyone – even devout, pious Curly – seem to notice when she walks by. I’ve seen a few recruits trip when she passed them, and it’s not just because she’s the Herald._
> 
> _…Oh shit, good thing I hid that quickly enough. She just came over here to say hello and ask me to tell her a story and she almost caught me writing to you about her tits. She has a great sense of humor, though, I bet I would have been able to talk my way out of it. She wanted to hear another one about you, so I told her about the Bone Pit. I didn’t even have to exaggerate and I think she was impressed, got all giddy and excited while I told it, like she was hanging on every word. I think you’ve got yourself a fan._
> 
> _Her name’s Mara, by the way, I almost couldn’t believe it took me so long to figure it out. Everyone just keeps calling her Herald, or Lady Trevelyan. The first time I called her Mara, she looked happier than I’ve seen her in a while. She’s doing a damn good job of hiding how much this is all getting to her, but let me tell you – I can tell the poor kid needs a break. Something to take her mind off all of this. She’s tough, but she’s only as old as you were when you first came to Kirkwall twelve years ago, and she’s got all of Thedas relying on her. Got to say I admire her resolve though – she’s got a pretty good shot at fixing Blondie’s mess, if you ask me. I think if anyone can do it, she can. I just wish she’d take a break once in a while._
> 
> Hawke sighed and picked up the last letter in the bundle and skimmed it as well for the passage he sought.
> 
> _Damn, Hawke, am I wrong in thinking you’re starting to admire her too? You haven’t even met her yet but you almost sound like you want to, the way you keep asking for more stories about her. And fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your perspective - I think you’ll get your chance to meet her soon._
> 
> _Remember Corypheus? Turns out he’s not as dead as we thought. Instead, he’s on the loose and happens to be the one behind all of this madness in Thedas, with the Breach and the Conclave. He nearly killed the Herald – or rather, Inquisitor, I guess I should call her now. He came after her with an Archdemon even. She caused an avalanche after everyone else got to safety, and she even managed to survive it. I’ll admit, it might be a more impressive feat than your duel with the Arishok._
> 
> _I digress._
> 
> _Listen, I hate to ask but…I need you to come here, to Skyhold. I’ve included a map for you. I know you and Stroud kept in touch, and we need to figure out what in the name of Andraste’s tits is going on with Corypheus. The Inquisitor needs your help, the poor kid can’t figure this out on her own. She needs you. You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was important._

 

He set the letters down and rubbed his eyes, thinking hard. He suddenly felt guilty as he realized he hadn’t just left Mara without saying goodbye, but Varric as well. Varric was more easily mended with a letter and promises of a few drinks. Mara, on the other hand…

Hawke finally pulled out his parchment and quill, and stared at the blank leaf of parchment as he tried to think of what he could even say. He stared into the flames, lost in thought, but no words came to him that could describe his mistakes or apologize to her. He shook his head and repacked his satchel before he retired to his tent after dousing his campfire.

Once inside the tent he lay staring at the canvas above him, sleep not finding him as he chafed at being alone under the blankets. All it took was one thought of her and he was hard as he remembered being inside her. He closed his eyes, picturing her laid bare on the bed beneath him as he touched her, as he kissed her, as he excited her. Her grey eyes would always darken, her long black eyelashes fluttering as she moaned, pulling her perfect lip between her teeth as she responded eagerly to him. The image of her perfect tits bouncing as he thrust into her made his hardening cock throb, and he lowered a hand to its length and slowly began to stroke himself.

It didn’t compare to the memory of her tight cunt or wet mouth around him, but he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on the memories of both. The recollection of the first time she’d crawled across the bed and taken him in her mouth while on her hands and knees was a particularly fond one. He hadn’t thought a woman who was part of a holy Inquisition would be so willingly, boldly depraved, and in that instant he’d known he was lost. His plan to help her work off stress and give her a break had quickly escalated into a near obsession for him.

He’d noticed from the first moment they met how tense and easily irritated she seemed. He’d noticed how her hands seem to linger on her own skin anytime she brushed away a hair or fidgeted when she got lost in thought. It was as if she was longing for touch, as if she hadn’t been touched in a very long time. He wondered if it had just been a while, or if no one ever had been able to pleasure her the way she deserved. He had immediately wanted to take it as a personal challenge. And then she’d given him furtive glances when she thought he didn’t notice, looking timid and interested, stuttering over her words and blushing when he’d teased her.

Varric had told him so much about her that he was eager to meet her at Skyhold, and when he’d seen her finally she’d taken his breath away. Nobody that beautiful should go so long without the touch of another, he’d decided, and he could tell she was showing all the signs of needing to release pent up sexual tension. But when he’d invited her to his room, he hadn’t thought it would turn into what it had. He hadn’t thought that soon he wouldn’t be able to get enough of her or that he’d begin to care about how she was managing outside of the bedroom. Before he’d known it, she was almost all he could think about.

His mind tried to conjure the image of her crying and he shook himself a little, trying not to get distracted. He stroked himself faster, biting his lip as he remembered the first night again, when he’d woken up to feel her tongue sliding along his length before she softly sucked at one of his balls. He’d looked down to see her smile at him, and without a word he’d flipped her on her back and taken her. He remembered how wet she’d been, how excited she’d gotten from waking him up with her tongue. _Fuck, what a woman…_ he’d thought when she came almost as soon as he was within her, so aroused by what she’d been doing to him that she fell apart as soon as he touched her.

The memory of her losing herself was enough to do him in, and he groaned as he came, spilling his release on his stomach. It couldn’t compare at all to the feeling of finishing within her, the feeling that he felt positively addicted to, but it helped him think maybe sleep wasn’t so far out of his grasp. He wiped his release off his skin with a handkerchief and rolled onto his side, trying not to think about how much better he’d slept with her limbs tangled up in his, her smaller form curled into his arms.


	14. What Friends are For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Varric says all the things that need to be said, to both parties.

Mara pulled the sleeve of her armor down, fitting it snugly over the silk scarf she had tied there. She wasn’t even sure why she felt compelled to wear it, but she thought maybe it had to do with the fact that it smelled like him. When she’d held it to her face she’d noticed it; the salty, almost spicy smell of his flesh permeated the fabric of the scarf. She had realized where she’d seen the scarf before – it was a part of his armor, he’d worn it tied to a part of his pauldron. She couldn’t help herself, and wore it tied around her wrist under her armor, where she hoped no one could see the crest embroidered on it.

She rubbed at her eyes one last time but knew it was a hopeless cause; they were too obviously swollen from her tears. She held her chin high and finally left her tent to see what she could do to help their forces depart the Western Approach to return to Skyhold. She was determined to bury herself in her role as Inquisitor and forget.

“Inquisitor,” she heard from behind her and turned to see the Commander approaching her. He had a curious look on his face, almost like concern. “Are you feeling all right?”

Mara frowned at him. “Of course, Commander, why wouldn’t I be?” she lied easily.

He hesitated, looking as if he changed his mind several times before he spoke. “You slept so long I wondered if maybe you were injured yesterday.”

She knew it was almost midday and that she’d been in her tent all morning, but she couldn’t tell him she’d awoken with the sunrise and spent the whole time since crying. “Just exhausted, that’s all,” she lied easily again.

His eyes wandered over her face and it was becoming apparent to her that he didn’t believe her. She tugged a little at her sleeve to hide the scarf, and she noticed him watching the gesture. “I understand Hawke left to make the journey to Weisshaupt, to tell the order what happened,” Cullen said after a moment.

Mara’s stomach lurched. How did he know where Hawke had gone? She watched his face carefully and realized he must have seen Hawke leave, he must have spoken with him. She tried to keep her face neutral, but she saw him notice the slight furrow of her brow. So he’d taken off to go try to fix what had happened, to make sure it wouldn’t happen again. Sadly she realized it was because of Stroud. She knew he felt guilty, but she wondered if he could feel nearly as guilty as she did. She realized Cullen was watching her intently and she finally nodded. “Yes, yes, someone needed to,” she murmured.

“Oh, did you send him?” the Commander asked, quirking a brow curiously.

“I -” Mara paused, unsure of the tone he had taken. “It was his decision, but I agreed, seeing as Stroud, ah -”

“Inquisitor, you know, I -” Cullen started, taking a step toward her, but he stopped and seemed lost in thought.

“What can I do to help prepare for our departure, Commander?” she interrupted before he could keep asking about Hawke. She didn’t want to think about it.

 

* * *

 

 “Hey kid, have you seen -”

“He left,” she interrupted Varric without looking up from where she was packing.

“He did? Did he say where he was going?” Varric frowned, looking a little hurt and surprised.

“According to the Commander, he’s on his way to Weisshaupt,” she answered, trying to keep her tone neutral.

“According to Curly? You mean he didn’t tell you himself?” Varric’s frown deepened.

“Why would he tell me? That would imply that he -” but her voice caught in her throat and she halted in her packing as she tried to swallow the lump of emotion there.

“Hey, kid, what’s wrong?” Varric stepped closer to where she knelt and put his hand on her shoulder.

“Nothing, Varric, I’m fine,” she murmured.

“Come on, now, I'll listen,” he prompted her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked before she could stop herself, looking up at the dwarf with tears in her eyes.

“I didn’t know, I didn’t think you two would…” he sighed. “It was five years ago, and Hawke’s been trying to forget about her ever since. With everything going on, with him in hiding, I thought maybe he finally had. When you two took up together I thought he’d tell you himself, or that I should at least give him a chance to.”

She pressed her lips together and shook her head sadly. “He never said one word about it. He’s hardly told me about anything that happened in Kirkwall.”

“The city doesn’t exactly hold fond memories for him,” Varric pointed out. “Bethany died before they could get there, Carver died on our damned expedition into the Deep Roads. His mother was murdered by a blood mage, he had his heart broken, he even had to kill a good friend after he went crazy and blew up the Chantry, and then he had to flee,” he sighed after he listed it all off. “Honestly, seeing him with you was the first time I thought maybe he’d finally begun to move on from it all.”

“Apparently not,” she muttered, feeling completely despondent as she shoved something into her pack.

“You know I’m not so sure about that,” Varric suddenly mused, his voice taking on an interesting tone. He reached down and grabbed her left wrist and pushed back the sleeve of her armor.

“Varric, no -” she tried to pull it away from him but he’d already seen it.

“If he left that for you, I wouldn’t be too worried about the fact that he didn’t tell you,” the dwarf said slowly, a twinkle in his eye.

“Why not?” she asked as she fixed her sleeve with a deep frown, curious despite herself.

“Funny family tradition, in the Hawke clan, goes back for generations,” he was still staring at her wrist. “That one, specifially, was his father’s – or I guess, his mother’s. His father gave it to her when he was sneaking out of the Gallows to see her. It was a love token to remind her of him while they were separated by fate. Hawke kept it with him after his mother died. He never even gave it to Isabela.”

Mara stared silently down at her wrist, new emotions welling up inside her, threatening to overflow onto her cheeks again.

“I think deep down he always knew she wouldn’t be faithful. I think he knew she was too set in her ways, too determined not to tie herself to anyone. I stayed at the Hanged Man too, I knew what Isabela was up to all the time,” Varric sighed a little. “I think what really hurt Hawke was that he knew she’d move on eventually, but he let himself hope she wouldn’t anyway. But if he left that for you…let’s just say he has far more faith in you than he ever had in her.”

Mara swallowed and shook her head. “I think this time I’m the one who can’t allow myself to hope. He left without saying goodbye, Varric. I wouldn’t tell him…” she shook her head some more. “It’s too late, he’s gone.”

“Don’t worry, I think he knows anyway,” Varric patted her on the shoulder and turned to head to his own tent, leaving her staring after him in painful confusion, musing over everything he’d told her.

 

* * *

 

 Hawke gave a deep sigh, happy to finally see the stalwart presence of Weisshaupt before him. He patted the neck of his steed and encouraged it forward, anticipating the warmth of the fortress ahead of him. A hot meal and a warm bed sounded like exactly what he needed, at the moment.

It had been a mostly uneventful journey, only occasionally coming across wildlife or bandits and easily taking care of them before he continued on. It had been a long journey, though, and it had become lonelier the longer he was away from her. Every night he’d sat and tried to compose a letter to send to Skyhold, but the words continually escaped him until he gave up in frustration.

He approached the gate and called for it to be opened, announcing who he was. It took a moment, but the bridge was finally lowered and he rode across it through the open gate. A Warden stood waiting for him in the courtyard, grizzled and wearing an eye patch. Hawke wanted to laugh; it was too stereotypical – grizzled old protector of a decrepit, once glorious fortress. It was as though the Warden were the human counterpart of Weisshaupt itself.

“Champion,” the Warden greeted as Hawke swung himself from his horse and held out his hand to greet the man.

“Hawke, if you don’t mind,” he introduced himself.

The man released his hand and gave him a nod. “Of course. I am Westley, an honor to meet you,” the man gestured for Hawke to follow him to the stables. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“You have?” Hawke asked, confused.

“You received a letter two days ago, sent by raven,” the Warden watched as Hawke passed the reins of his mount to a stable hand. “We realized you had to be on your way, if someone expected you to receive a letter here.”

Hawke’s heart raced a little, and he tried to keep his face and tone neutral. “Ah, I see,” he chuckled. “I guess that would give it away, yes.”

Westley pulled a scroll from his cloak and handed it over. “But I doubt you’re simply here to receive missives,” the Warden chuckled. “Please, come inside the fortress and you can tell us what brings the Champion of Kirkwall to Weisshaupt.”

 Hawke finally retired to the room the Wardens had prepared for him and locked the door behind him. He’d waited all evening to open the letter, trying to focus on his business before he got a chance to read it. Now that he was alone he tore open the seal and unrolled it, hoping to see her name scrawled at the bottom.

For the first time in years, he was disappointed to see the familiar handwriting of his best friend.

 

>     _H,_
> 
> _You colossal, idiotic, bastard son of a diseased nug what in the name of Andraste’s tits were you thinking running off like that? Set aside the fact that you ran off without telling me, your best friend of over ten years, where you were going or even that you were leaving at all. Never mind the fact that you shouldn’t have headed off to Weisshaupt completely on your own, either. Those aren’t the main reasons I’m angrier at you than Fenris anytime anyone so much as says the word ‘slavers.’_
> 
> _How the fuck could you run off and leave Mara like that? The poor kid is an absolute wreck, and I wouldn’t embarrass her by telling you she is if it weren’t_ _entirely and completely your damned fault_ _. At the very least you could have said goodbye, but instead you had to play the wounded hero and run off on her like a fucking coward. Yes, I said it – I’ve never been more ashamed to be your friend because you’re acting like an immature coward._
> 
> _Yes, Stroud dying was horrible, but damn it Hawke don’t you think she’s upset about it too? She’s the one who begged him to save you and stay instead, and it isn’t exactly an easy burden on her that she had to do that. You can’t possibly be so selfish as to think you’re the only one feeling more than a little guilty here over the death of a good man to save all our sorry asses from that demon._
> 
> _And what’s this I understand about you never telling her about Isabela? If you’re as mad about Mara as I think you are, you at least owed her that bit of truth. You didn’t have to tell her all about Kirkwall – Maker knows the story doesn’t make for great pillow talk. But you didn’t have to keep her in the dark about how you’ve spent the better part of the past five years on a bender of booze and humor trying to forget that pirate whore ever existed - on top of everything else you dealt with._
> 
> _She’s wearing your damn scarf everywhere, and every day when I see her in the morning her eyes have dark circles and are swollen like she spent the whole night sobbing. I told her the story behind the scarf, trying to make her feel better, but fuck Hawke – you should have been the one to do that. You couldn’t even leave a note? I’m starting to get the urge to tell her you’re not worth it, because I’m honestly beginning to think you aren’t._
> 
> _Finish up your business in Weisshaupt and then get your shit together and decide if you want to act like an adult again. She didn’t deserve this, and if there was ever a time for you to learn some Maker damned humility and apologize to someone, it’s now._
> 
> _You owe me more drinks than you’ll ever be able to afford. If you don’t at least write back, I’ll start telling Curly that she thinks he’s a catch and encourage him to make his move. At least their babies would have better hair than yours._
> 
> _V_

  

Hawke stared down at the letter, his hands shaking. He was overcome with so many different emotions he couldn’t pinpoint which one was the worst.

Varric was angry – he’d anticipated that much, but he hadn’t expected the why. The dwarf seemed to be overly protective of Mara. He’d never thought his friend would call him out on his shit this strongly, or completely take her side and defend her over him.

Mara was a wreck. _She’s wearing your damn scarf everywhere_ . _She looks like she spent the whole night sobbing_. He’d known leaving like that would hurt her, but he realized he hadn’t given much thought to just how deeply. He’d been in pain himself. He’d been in a haze of guilt, shame, and despair after Stroud and their fight. He didn’t even really know why he hadn’t said goodbye. He hadn’t wanted to face her tears, he had thought, or risk fighting again. But now he realized he hadn’t trusted his own reaction. Someone needed to get to the Wardens, and he’d decided it needed to be him to try to make up for what had happened to Stroud on his behalf. If he’d woken her up to say goodbye, if he’d stolen one last kiss from her, his resolve would have wavered. He would have caved, confessed his feelings, stayed – possibly forever.

He’d thought it was duty that had spurred him to leave. Varric was right though.

He was a damn coward.

Hawke reread the letter and forced himself to feel the shame it roused in him, making him hate himself. He pulled out several sheets of parchment, his quill, and ink and sat at the small desk in his room. He unscrewed the ink bottle and set out to write to Varric, knowing full well he was likely serious in his threat to encourage Cullen’s advances if he didn’t. Even if he wasn’t serious, he couldn’t take that chance – the thought made his blood boil. He’d write to the Commander, as well, to report on the Wardens, even though he loathed having to write another report to the Templar bastard.

As for what he’d try to write to Mara…He wasn’t sure a letter could fix it. But maybe he could beg Varric’s help on that account.


	15. Memories and Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor returns to Skyhold, depressed. Varric eventually passes on something that may just help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst is real...at least at the beginning. I promise you it's worth it.

Mara rolled onto her stomach in her large bed, burying her face in her pillow and trying to avoid the sunlight filtering in through her balcony doors. They had returned to Skyhold the previous night, and she wanted to do nothing but stay in bed all day, so depressed she felt positively sick and lethargic. She nuzzled her face into the pillow and was met with a whiff of a salty smell like sweat or sex, but also something spicy and woody, almost reminding her somehow of pure heat and fire. Her bed still smelled like him. With a groan she pulled her face away, trying to fight the tears the memories of the last time they’d been in this bed together were bringing back.

He’d carried her from where he’d taken her against the wall and laid her back on the bed, finally stripping himself out of his clothes. He’d spent what must have been an hour kissing her, his lips not leaving hers until they were swollen, throbbing under his relentless, hungry attention. The whole time he’d let his hands caress every inch of her skin. Eventually he’d followed his fingers with his tongue, licking every bit of skin on her body, sucking her fingers and toes, her nipples, before he’d buried his face between her legs. He had teased her until she was begging, getting her to the brink before he pulled away, letting her calm before he resumed, repeating again and again until she’d sobbed and promised him anything if he’d only lead her to her release. And when he’d taken her offer of anything, he’d simply rolled her to her knees and positioned her on all fours. He’d taken her as roughly as he could until they came together, as they always did so easily, the headboard –

Mara shook her head and clapped her hands over her eyes, trying to stop her mind from continuing the thoughts. They’d gotten away from her, the memories brought back too strongly by the smell of him in her sheets. She couldn’t let herself think of the way he’d kissed her in the morning before they left, of the way he’d been so urgent and yet so tender, almost feeling as if he was making love to her and not just fucking her. She’d noticed it before, the intense, passionate way he sometimes took her, as though trying to tell her something with his body instead of his words. She wished she’d listened. She gave a dry sob and pushed the heels of her hands harder into her eyes, as if she could force out the recollection. She felt wet between her legs and it left an empty ache in her belly, but suddenly the ache gave a twinge and her muscles cramped ever so slightly as if being squeezed.

She frowned and finally uncovered her eyes, thinking for a moment. It didn’t even take her a second before she realized what she was feeling and she hopped out of bed, checking her smallclothes. A small bit of blood was there, and where she had thought she would feel relief, she suddenly felt a hopeless disappointment that made her sink back to the edge of the bed, sobbing.

The last time, the very last time, she’d forgotten to take the witherstalk and spindleweed potion. It had been three days later while they were on the road, heading back to Skyhold, that she even thought about it. The days that followed she had gravitated between an anxious nausea and an odd sort of anticipation. She knew that now of all times was the worst time for her to get with child, and yet now that she knew she wasn’t, now that she saw that it hadn’t happened, she felt extraordinarily, inexplicably empty.

He really was gone. Every bit of him was gone, every bit of him had left her. She hated that she had gotten a hope in her mind that she might end up pregnant, that at least she would have a part of him left, growing within her. She’d lain awake at night alone in her tent, picturing a black haired baby with his blue eyes staring up as it lay in her arms. She hated herself for that desire, but still she’d rested her hand on her lower belly and pictured it growing because of him. She wondered if he would have been happy if it had happened. She wondered if he wanted that too.

Mara had never been in love before. She had had no idea that it could happen so suddenly, so intensely. Nor had she known that it could hurt so deeply. She couldn’t even pinpoint when it had happened, all she knew was how exquisite and agonizing it felt. She remembered overhearing him whispering to her when he thought she was asleep, and she wished desperately that she’d said something, that he’d been able to tell her when she was awake.

She continued crying, still feeling empty in the core of her very being, and she pulled herself back into the bed to recline on the pillows. _Fuck the Inquisition_ , she thought miserably as she pulled the blankets over herself. They could do without her for one day.

  

* * *

 

 “Inquisitor?” the soft feminine voice called again.

Mara rolled over and buried her head under the pillow with a groan.

“Inquisitor, we need -”

“Tomorrow,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Tomorrow. I can’t, not today – sorry Josie, I’m just…I’m sick,” she explained lamely, her face still buried under her pillow.

“Of course,” the Ambassador sighed, and she descended the stairs to leave Mara’s quarters.

_Hawke was stepping forward, conjuring his usual fire in his hands, preparing to take on the demon before them._

_“Go. Get out of here, Mara.”_

_“No, wait,” her heart stopped beating. “Stroud, please.”_

_Stroud hurried forward, he knocked Hawke back to safety._

_Stroud died._

_They survived._

“Kid, I wouldn’t be here, but -”

“Go away. I’m not even dressed, Varric,” she mumbled, snuggling further into the blankets, not opening her eyes.

“You need to get out of bed, you need to eat something,” Varric implored her.

“I’m sick,” she groaned.

“I can get them to bring some soup up.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Come on, kid, it’s been two days,” the dwarf sighed. “I know it’s hard but – we need to get back to work.”

“One more day, just let me sleep one more day,” she muttered.

“All right,” he agreed sadly.

_She ran away, she couldn’t see him looking at her like that._

_“Damn it, Mara, don’t run away from me.”_

_His fingers pinched her arm, his grip hurt, he pulled her behind him and the sad thing was she would have willingly followed him anywhere._

_“I’m expendable!”_

_“No, you’re not,” she insisted._

_She cried, hurting that he actually thought that about himself._

“Inquisitor, we’ve gotten our invitation to the Winter Palace, we need to plan – we need to save the Empress.”

“I can’t plan right now, I’m sick.”

“Adan can make you a potion, you need to get better.”

“I need sleep, that’s all. Tomorrow, I’ll be better.”

“I know how hard it was, I know…I’m grateful to the Warden Stroud, too,” the Seeker’s voice cracked. “He saved us all.”

She tried not to picture the determination on Stroud’s face, the way he had charged forward.

She didn’t respond, but buried her face in her pillows.

_“How can you believe anyone else could care after the way Isabela left you like you were nothing?”_

_Hawke’s jaw clenched. He closed his eyes._

_“You know eventually you’ll add the name ‘Mara’ to your list of failures.”_

_Hawke growled, he ran ahead, he didn’t respond._

_“Then why bring up Isabela? If you don’t care about me, why does that bother you?”_

_“I won’t be your consolation.”_

_“You’re not, I promise, Mara.”_

_He kissed her deeply, trying to show her he meant it._

_She believed him._

_She didn’t tell him._

“Maker’s breath – I’m sorry, Inquisitor, I didn’t know -”

She snuggled further into the blankets to hide her exposed, naked back. “Go away, Commander,” she murmured from where she faced away from him, barely raising her voice above a whisper. “I’ll come down tomorrow.”

“You’ve said tomorrow for three days, now,” he sighed. He sounded worried. She hated that he sounded worried.

“I’ve been sick. I’ll be better tomorrow.”

“Shall I call for a healer?” he offered.

“No, that’s not necessary, really.”

“Inquisitor…Mara, we’re all worried, it’s the fourth day -”

“I’ve just been sick. I’ll be fine soon,” she muttered. “Just one more day.”

“Is he…is he really worth -” his voice was low, barely audible.

“I said I’ve been sick. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

She heard him sigh, could tell he was rubbing the back of his neck without turning to look at him. Footsteps sounded as he finally descended the stairs to leave her quarters.

_“Tell me, Mara!”_

_“No!”_

_“You can’t kiss me like that and say you don’t care about me.”_

_She cried, too scared to say yes._

_Too scared to be vulnerable._

_Too scared he could mean it, too._

_“Mara, please – please tell me – tell me you love me,” he begged, but she fell apart around him, her orgasm exquisite agony as she cried, and didn’t answer._

_“Tell me you love me,” he begged again as he desperately filled her with one final thrust, his face almost looking pained in his pleasure._

_She loved him._

_“No,” she sobbed after, and he looked stricken._

The fifth day, finally, her limbs ached, her back felt sore from how long she’d spent in bed, only getting up when absolutely necessary to relieve herself. Her stomach was growling ferociously, loudly voicing its displeasure that she hadn’t fed it more than a few nibbles of the bread or cheese that Varric had left for her every morning for the last four days. She pushed herself up from the pillows and tried to stretch, positively aching everywhere as she did so. She threw back the blankets and scooted to the edge of the bed, determining at last to take a bath and act like the Inquisitor.

When she finally put on her usual attire, she paused. The red scarf would be obvious on her wrist, it would show to everyone. After the way they had worried over her for the last few days, she couldn’t bring herself to walk out wearing the scarf so visibly. She folded it gently in her hand, and slid it into the band across her breasts, so that it covered her left breast where she could feel it, but no one could see it.

“Hey, kid!” Varric called across the Main Hall as he rushed over. “Great to see you’re feeling better.”

She gave him a small smile but didn’t answer.

"I think they just called a war council, you should get in there. Looked like they got a message, too,” he shrugged a little, as if indicating he didn’t know from who. “Come see me after, I have something for you.”

Mara walked through the Ambassador’s office to the War Room and opened the doors. She was greeted by sudden silence as her advisors turned to see her standing in the doorway.

“Inquisitor,” the Commander greeted, giving her a weak smile.

“Sorry I’m late,” she greeted, trying to keep her tone even.

“We just received a missive,” Josephine handed over a letter, but Cullen almost looked like he didn’t want her to hand it over.

Mara frowned and took it from the other woman, unrolling it to read.  

 

> _Commander,_
> 
> _The good news is, the Wardens at Weisshaupt do not seem to be under any sort of influence from Corypheus. They are also not trying to attempt any blood magic rituals. What they decide to do to the Wardens of Orlais after their collusion with Corypheus is up to them and the Inquisition. So I guess that means my work here is done._
> 
> _Which is good, since the bad news is it’s freezing here and they’re almost out of ale._
> 
> _I guess more good news is this is likely my last report to you. I know what a relief that is sure to be to both of us. Just for good measure, since I won’t write again – your hair is still ridiculous, Curly._
> 
> _Hawke, Dashing Champion of Kirkwall_

 

She unrolled the scroll the rest of the way, looking for a postscript, it had to be there – but the parchment was torn. It looked like it had been ripped off.

“Where’s the rest?” she asked, looking up at her advisors.

“There wasn’t any,” Leliana answered.

“It was sent that way, Inquisitor,” the Commander chimed in sadly.

She stared back down at the scroll. “I see,” she finally murmured. She swallowed hard, rolled the scroll back up, and clenched it tightly in her hand. “And where are we on our plans for the Winter Palace?”

She looked up at her advisors expectantly, not allowing herself to show her emotions, trying to focus on their reports.

“Varric, what do you have for me?” Mara demanded as she raced forward to the dwarf. She was still holding the other letter, and she found herself hoping that somehow he had the torn off bit of parchment.

“Oh, right,” Varric turned and shuffled some papers in front of him. “Listen, I, uh – I have instructions, I’m supposed to -”

“Damn it, Varric, just give me whatever it is!” Mara held out her hand impatiently.

Varric pulled a bundle of envelopes out and pulled the top one out of the twine binding them all so he could hand it over.

Mara tore it open impatiently and unfolded the letter.

 

> _Mara,_
> 
> _I should have said it._
> 
> _Garrett_

 

Mara turned the letter over, she looked in the envelope. “Is that it?” she asked, but she saw Varric shuffle the rest of the bundle to hide it once more under the papers on the table before him. “Give me those!”

She scuffled with the dwarf, trying to wrestle the bundle away from him. “Wait – wait, he wanted me to give them to you one at a time -”

“Fuck that, give them to me!” she cried as she finally pulled the bundle from him. He sighed and threw his arms in the air.

“You two are the most stubborn sons of -” and his curses faded away as she ran through the Main Hall to her quarters, the bundle of letters held tightly to her chest.

She locked the door behind her and raced up her stairs, throwing herself in the middle of her bed. Her fingers shook as she untied the twine and picked up the next letter.

   

> _Mara,_
> 
> _Forgive me. I should have said goodbye. I should have said I_
> 
> _I should have told you_
> 
> _I’m an ass_
> 
> _I was scare_
> 
> _Garrett_

 

She stared at the letter, at the many crossed out and half-started lines, confused. She reached for the next letter and tore it open as well.

 

> _Mara,_
> 
> _\- I’m sorry you had to make that choice. Stroud shouldn’t have had to die. Especially not for me._
> 
> _\- You shouldn’t have had to ask him._
> 
> _\- I should never have yelled at you about it._
> 
> _\- I should have stayed with you._
> 
> _Garrett_

 

It looked like he was jotting notes, like he was trying to figure out what to say and writing down the points he knew he needed to make. She grabbed eagerly at the next. 

  

> _Mara,_
> 
> _Varric told me I’m a fucking coward._
> 
> _He’s right. I am. The Great Champion of Kirkwall is scared of being in l feelings._
> 
> _I’m sorry I left._
> 
> _Garrett_

 

She picked up the next, now surrounded by a pile of opened letters and torn envelopes in the middle of her bed. There were still several letters before her.

  

> _Mara,_
> 
> _I wish I’d kissed you goodbye, I can’t stop thinking about the last time…_
> 
> _It was wrong. I was wrong._
> 
> _I lo_
> 
> _I lo_
> 
> _Garrett_

 

It was accompanied by several strokes of the quill, as if in frustration, drawing lines on the margins of what he wrote, as if he’d been struggling. She tore open the next one.

  

> _Mara,_
> 
> _I didn’t tell you about Isabela because being with you made me feel like I actually…fuck I don’t know how to put it into words._
> 
> _You’re not my consolation._
> 
> _You’re my every lov hear little minx._
> 
> _Fuck Hawke get it together…_
> 
> _Garrett_

 

Mara stared at the crossed out words, her heart racing. There were only two letters left.

   

> _Mara,_
> 
> _Roses are red_
> 
> _Your eyes are grey not blue_
> 
> _I’m so sorry for how I’ve hurt you_
> 
> _You’ve always called me an ass_
> 
> _And you’re…right_
> 
> _…fuck why did I think poetry was going to be any better?_
> 
> _Garrett_

 

With the faintest smile and a slightly trembling hand, she picked up the last letter and opened it.

  

> _Mara,_
> 
> _I told Varric to give you those letters one at a time, but I’m almost positive you probably wrestled them away from him and read them all at once, didn’t you, little minx?_
> 
> _I’ve tried to write you every day I’ve been gone, but I haven’t been able to find the words. So instead, I’ve sent you some of my horrible attempts to express myself instead of tossing them in the fire. But honestly I’m not sure there are words that can make up for the way I fled like a coward. You never deserved that, and for what it’s worth…I’m sorrier than I can ever explain._
> 
> _I should have woken you up to say goodbye._
> 
> _I should have told you about Isabela, and Kirkwall._
> 
> _I should have told you first about how I feel._
> 
> _It was so surprising to me, it terrified me, I’ll admit. And I think from the way we fought, it’s safe to say it terrified you as well. I shouldn’t have pushed so hard for you to admit it. I shouldn’t have yelled at you for making a difficult decision like you had to._
> 
> _I’m grateful that you saved my life. I’m sorry I never said thank you._
> 
> _Thank you, Mara._
> 
> _I think you may have been right, I think I felt like I needed to die there to make up for everything, for my failures. I’m sorry for the fear and pain that caused you. I’m sorry I put you in that position._
> 
> _I did fail you, when I left._
> 
> _I’m so sorry I did._
> 
> _You’re dearer to me than I ever let on. You’re more magnificent than I think you realize. You brought light into my life when I thought there never would be any, ever again – not after everything I’ve lost in my life. I know I never let it show, I know I bury everything in witty remarks and indifference. Everything that happened, everyone that I lost, has weighed so heavily on me that I was beginning to think I’d never pull myself up from the depths of my despair._
> 
> _And then I met you._
> 
> _Varric had written and told me about the Inquisition, and about you. I never told you how many stories I’d heard about you before we met, nor how much I wanted to meet you. You confessed to me once that you couldn’t believe the Champion of Kirkwall could want you._
> 
> _I couldn’t believe the beautiful and capable Herald of Andraste could want me, not when I was a broken shell of the man I once was._
> 
> _And then I kissed you, and you responded so eagerly, and since then…_
> 
> _Mara, there aren’t words to describe the bliss I feel when I’m with you, when I see you, when I touch you, when I kiss you, when I’m inside you._
> 
> _Your smile is like a sip of cool water on a hot day in the Hinterlands._
> 
> _Your voice soothes my soul until I forget the troubles of Thedas._
> 
> _Your humor is a breath of fresh air after an eternity suffocating in mediocrity and desolation._
> 
> _Being inside of you is the closest to the Maker I think I’ll ever get, and I ache desperately for the feeling of heaven that I experience when I’m making love to you._
> 
> _If you can forgive me, if you can ever bring yourself to let me back in, I promise I’ll never hurt you like this again. I’m through running. I’m through being a coward._
> 
> _I’m on my way from Weisshaupt, but I am making my way to the inn in the City of Jader. I won’t be too far. Send word to me there, if you think you can ever forgive me. I’ll await your answer for as long as it will take._
> 
> _Yours,_
> 
> _Always, forever,_
> 
> _Garrett_

 

Mara couldn’t see, the tears were welling up in her eyes at his words blurring her vision. She blinked rapidly trying to clear her sight so she could read it again. And she finally did.

And again.

And again.

She read it until she was positive she had it memorized.

She shuffled the envelopes on her bed and something fell out of the last letter's envelope, and when she picked it up she saw it was the torn off bottom of the report. 

 

> _P.S. Lady T – I’m on my way back to you. In the meantime I’ve practiced my sketching skills._

 

And sure enough there was another drawing of her breasts on the bottom of the parchment. She turned the torn parchment over and saw a jotted note.

 

> _Mara – I’m so…Oh never mind, you deserve a full letter, not another joke. You’re worth so much more than that._

 

She couldn’t help herself and smiled, realizing he had sent it so she wouldn’t worry what he had torn off. She giggled, noticing that his sketch was, indeed, improved from his last.


	16. The Inn in Jader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Champion gets settled into routine in Jader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are all making me so happy with how much you're enjoying this, the comments on the last chapter absolutely made my day. I literally started this as a one shot after some wine, thinking it would be a funny, sexy idea. And then it evolved, and became completely self-indulgent because I absolutely loved how Mara and Garrett just clicked. I didn't expect this response and you guys are giving me life with how much you're enjoying it.
> 
> Thank you so much! More is on the way, trust me.
> 
> xx,  
> L

Hawke slipped a few coins into the stable boy’s hand as he passed him the reins of his horse. He patted the steed’s neck before he turned away and headed through the rain to the door of the inn. It had taken him a long time to reach Jader, traveling from Weisshaupt by sea and land, but he was finally there.

The inside of the inn was cozy, and cleaner than he expected. Too many years at the Hanged Man, and too many years on the run staying in what seemed no better than hovels, must have lowered his expectations for accommodations. He was surprised at how warm and comforting the place looked; then again, this was a part of Orlais and not Ferelden. The common room was warm with firelight, with a large fireplace in the center of one wall, flanked by two winged back armchairs with a small table in between them. Tables lined the rest of the room with wooden chairs, every table lit with candles that flickered and sputtered when the wind blew through the portal before the door shut behind him.

The room had only a few travelers spread amongst it and wasn’t terribly crowded. It was incredibly late, though, so he wasn’t surprised. He wove his way through the tables to the bar to find the innkeeper, hoping he could still get a room at this time of night. The innkeeper finally wandered out of the back room behind the bar and saw him standing patiently waiting.

“Eh, sorry, it’s late, didn’ expect no one else tonight,” the innkeeper greeted him by way of apology.

“Not a problem, my good man,” Hawke gave a lazy grin. “I was hoping you still had a room available tonight,” he set a sovereign down on the bar. “Or actually, a room indefinitely,” he set two more sovereigns down, “preferably your nicest one, if it’s available.”

The innkeeper stared at the coins on the bar and then began to nod eagerly. “I think I can help ye, I’ve got just the one.” He slid the sovereigns off the bar and pocketed them.

“Excellent,” Hawke smiled. “One more thing tonight, if you don’t mind – have any messages arrived for a Messere Hawke?”

The innkeeper nodded suddenly, knowingly, and turned to head to the back room. He came back a minute later with two scrolls. “Here ye be, Messere,” and he handed the scrolls over. “Now, I can show ye to yer room if ye like.”

Hawke took the scrolls, trying to keep the greedy anticipation off his face. He gestured for the innkeeper to lead the way and followed him. “You sound Ferelden, what brought you to Jader?” Hawke asked the innkeeper.

“Eh, fled during the Blight, decided to stay after,” the innkeeper grunted. “This here’s yer room. Can I get ye anything else tonight?”

“No, thank you, serah,” Hawke smiled and nodded good night to the man before he closed the door behind him. He glanced quickly around the room, determining that it was agreeable lodging for the foreseeable future – it was nicer than the room Varric had kept at the Hanged Man, he mused. As much as Varric teased Hawke about burning through his money, he was still incredibly well off, and he knew he wouldn’t have to take on any jobs for quite some time. At least, not for the money. He knew if he was here longer than a week, he’d get antsy like always and start trying to fix everyone else’s problems. All he could think now was that that would be a welcome distraction while he waited for her to answer him.

He shrugged his cloak off and hung it over a chair before he broke the seal on the first scroll and opened it. 

 

> _H,_
> 
> _I don’t know why you tried to have me give those to her one at a time – she stole the whole bundle from me immediately and ran off to her room with them before I could stop her. She’s as stubborn as you are – you’re certainly perfect for each other._
> 
> _I was lucky those letters arrived when they did. She shut herself in her room as soon as we got back for almost five days, not eating or doing anything but sleeping. She wouldn’t come out no matter how much we all tried to get her to. It was hard to tell if it was just you or everything finally being too much. I think Stroud was still weighing heavily on her mind, as well. I gave them to her almost as soon as she finally came out of her room, and I’m glad I had them to give her._
> 
> _Since she read your letters she’s been more focused, she seems closer to her old self. Still a little sad, but she’s been quick with her wit again so I’d say she’s slowly coming back to herself. She didn’t tell me anything you’d said, but I’m assuming it must have been good news or she might have shut herself back in her room._
> 
> _I’m glad you finally grew a pair and wrote to her, though. Curly caught sight of her naked when he tried to get her to leave her room. I thought I was going to have to take drastic measures to keep him from trying to make his move after finally getting to see her like that. You have impeccable timing, it seems._
> 
> _We’ll be headed to the Winter Palace soon. Andraste’s tits, I’d rather face Adamant and the Fade again than the Orlesian nobles and their Grand Game, but apparently the Empress’ life is in danger so…when duty calls, I guess._
> 
> _Sorry I was so hard on you before, but…no you know what? I’m not. You were being an idiot. Glad you came to your senses though. I hate it when I have to try to fix your problems. At least this time all it took was one letter._
> 
> _V_

 

Hawke frowned and looked over the letter once more before he moved on to the next. He didn’t like the sound of Mara burying herself in her bed for almost five days. And he certainly didn’t like the sound of Sullen seeing her naked – he was determined that only he get to see her like that. But he smirked a little when he thought about Mara snatching the bundle of letters from Varric and running off with them. He’d known she would – trying to get Varric to give them to her one at a time had just been a ruse. He’d known it would drive her crazy.

The next scroll was long, there was almost too much parchment. He felt eager anticipation that it had to be from her, that it was long, that it was her own confession of her feelings in answer to his lengthy confession that he’d sent her.

As he unrolled, he saw that the parchment was blank. He kept unrolling, confused, until he saw that there was a few lines written in the middle of the long piece of parchment.

 

>     _Garrett,_
> 
> _You ass._
> 
> _You’re even worse at poetry than sketching._
> 
> _Although this time you_ almost _got them right._
> 
> _I still think you should have a professional make the statues for Kirkwall, though. Otherwise I’d be offended at how awful my tits look on display for all of Thedas. You promised me tasteful, remember? I’d hate to be disappointed._
> 
> _Mara_

 

And then, at the very bottom after even more blank space of parchment, was a large, crude drawing of his cock.

Hawke burst out laughing. Somehow, in that moment, it was almost better than a lengthy confession, an emotional letter. It was a return to some semblance of normalcy for them, which gave him more hope than if she’d written some soul-baring confession in response to his own. He knew, too, that she’d sent it on too much parchment to get his hopes up, only to tease him, to pay him back for trying to get Varric to pace the letters he’d sent.

_That’s my little minx_ , he thought with a smile.

 

* * *

  

Hawke rolled over in the bed and stretched, realizing the room was lit with the early morning sun. He didn’t necessarily have any reason to get out of bed, but he didn’t think he should take to lounging around in bed all day while he waited for her answer. Maybe he’d scout out the rest of Jader. He’d never been before; it would probably do him well to get familiar with his surroundings.

He dressed and wandered to the common room, where he ordered breakfast from the innkeeper and staked his claim on one of the armchairs in front of the fire. He wondered a little if he could bribe the innkeeper to make sure no one else sat in the chair while he was staying there. He finished his leisurely breakfast before he strolled out into the city, determined to explore.

Hawke was usually restless, a trait that had only become emphasized since he’d been on the run after the events in Kirkwall. Laziness didn’t really suit him. The only times he’d ever let himself feel lazy were in her bed, until the duties of the day had finally called them away from each other. He remembered when they’d overslept in her tent, after that second night together. He’d felt like he could have slept forever, wrapped around her like he had been. And again, on their second journey to the Western Approach, to Adamant – all of the mornings that he hadn’t wanted to drag himself out of their tent, out of their shared sleep space. He smirked as he recalled how many times he’d delayed their journey, burying his face or his cock between her legs, delaying them rising so that he could enjoy her before they started the day.

Jader turned out to be an interesting mix of Orlesian and Ferelden elements, and he consistently saw things that made him think of her. He mused over how many things he found himself wishing he could point out or go back and write to her about. It was such an odd feeling, wanting to talk so intently about silly everyday things. But he wanted to. Maker, he even wanted to know what she’d eaten all day, and he wanted to tell her what foods he’d sampled there when he walked through the markets, which ones he thought she may have enjoyed as well.

After he’d spent all day wandering the city, he returned to the inn and took up his place again in front of the fire, his legs splayed out in front of him in laid-back elegance. The innkeeper approached not long after, once he’d finally spotted Hawke back in the common room.

“You have another letter, messere,” he told Hawke and gave a small bow as he passed over a scroll.

“Thank you,” Hawke passed him a coin in gratitude and took the scroll eagerly.

It was much smaller than the last had been, but when he opened it he saw that it was again written in her hand.

 

>     _Garrett,_
> 
> _They’re making me learn to dance and play the Grand Game. I hate it._
> 
> _Nobody will listen to my suggestion to find me a double for the ball so that I don’t have to actually go. It’s not like any of the Orlesian nobles know what I look like. It’s quite disappointing._
> 
> _I hope Jader is warmer and has more ale than Weisshaupt._
> 
> _Unlike when you tried, there’s no Varric to send all of these to at once, so you’ll have to deal with actually getting my letters one at a time._
> 
> _You’re right._
> 
> _You should have said it._
> 
> _You should have told me._
> 
> _You should have stayed._
> 
> _Mara_
> 
> _P.S. You’re still an ass._

 

Again Hawke found himself chuckling in response to her letter. He wished he could see them making her learn to dance. He wished he could find the words to adequately tell her that there couldn’t possibly be a double to replace her for the Winter Palace. No one came close to her perfection.

He retired to his room after he’d had enough ale and curled into his large bed on his own. He fell asleep thinking of her astride him, her long eyelashes fluttering over her grey eyes as she took him deeper into her, her pink lips pouting as she moaned at the feeling. Her lips, her nipples, and her cunt were all so close together in color that he couldn’t see one without thinking of how much he wanted to see the other two. He’d often stared at her lips, dreaming of when he could get her alone to taste the wet pinkness between her legs until he made her sob. He’d never loved the look and taste of anyone more.

He woke up hard every morning, his body still not adjusted to the fact that she wasn’t beside him to enjoy upon waking. Instead most mornings he stroked his length himself, picturing the form of her writhing beneath him or the image of her mouth overflowing with his seed after he’d come between her perfect lips. That last one was a personal favorite of his, an image he was sure he wouldn’t forget until the day he died. He hoped desperately to be able to get a repeat of it. His hand was no comparison for her, but if he focused enough he could almost conjure the feeling of her wet and tight around him until his release wasn’t so full of emptiness without her.

As the days progressed, he familiarized himself with the city and some of the shopkeepers. He got his armor fixed, since he had the time for repairs, and he found a small bookshop to browse. It had been months since he’d had a chance to read, but he knew it would be an enjoyable distraction now as he waited. He sat beside the fire in the inn, legs stretched out before him, slowly sipping ale or wine as he read and waited for the day’s letter.

Mara was still writing short letters, telling him what preparations they were making for the Winter Palace, bemoaning how she didn’t want to go play the Grand Game. The letters were playful, teasing, full of her wit and humor that he loved so much. Once she ended a letter with a sketch of her own breasts, which she said she’d done in front of a mirror so he could have a better representation to work from than memory for the statues. He smirked, thoroughly aroused at the idea of her doing a self-portrait naked in her room alone. He knew, too, that was exactly what she’d wanted him to think about.

He composed and sent his own short letters, telling her about Jader and the markets, and the bookshop he had found. He told her how he had signed a few of the copies of _The Tale of the Champion_ that he'd found on the shelves, unable to resist the urge to surprise whoever bought them. He gave in to the urge that he’d experienced the first day he wandered the city to tell her about the mundane things, and he described what he could about his days. At the end of one of his letters, he included a sketch of his cock, chiding her for getting the details wrong when working from memory.

Hawke began to wonder when she’d answer him, if she’d invite him back to Skyhold. But the easy correspondence they had gave him more than just a tiny bit of hope, and he didn’t let himself be impatient. He had said he would wait as long as it took, and he meant it. In the meantime, he began to take small jobs during the day, helping the people of Jader to fight his feelings of restlessness.

He had been at the inn for two weeks, and the innkeeper was now used to the routine of his new resident. Every evening when he came back from working jobs for the locals or the postings from the Chantry board, the innkeeper would pass him a mug of ale and the day’s letter before he scurried off to grab some dinner for his lodger. Hawke had helped the man with a supply issue for the inn, scaring off a local thug who had tried to hold his goods hostage, and since then the innkeeper had made sure Hawke was comfortable and had everything he needed. Hawke settled into the armchair with his newest book, and the innkeeper brought over his usual ale and letter.

  

>     _Garrett,_
> 
> _We leave tomorrow at dawn for the Winter Palace. It will be harder to send letters from the road, but don’t worry – I haven’t forgotten about you if you don’t get a letter for a few days._
> 
> _We return in three weeks to Skyhold._
> 
> _Just thought you should know._
> 
> _It’s going to be a shame having to set up my tent alone. You were always faster than me when it came to getting it up._
> 
> _I really hope you choked on your ale at that line. I wish I could see your face right now. You always love it when I tell dirty jokes for you. What did you tell me? You ‘love the fact that you corrupted the sacred and holy Herald of Andraste?’_
> 
> _Joke’s on you, I’ve always been this magnificent._
> 
> _Your little minx,_
> 
> _Mara_

 

Hawke laughed quietly to himself, shaking his head as he smirked. She was right, he knew. She always had been that magnificent; he was aware of it before he went to Skyhold. Varric had passed along some of the filthy quips he’d overheard from her, and they had excited Hawke to no end. He reread the letter and mused over the prospect of not having consistent letters to look forward to for the next few weeks, deciding that he would take up a few more jobs to pass the time if that were the case.

With a small sigh he folded the letter and slipped it into his leather vest, right over his heart. He had a collection of them upstairs in his room, guarded by a simple spell so that no one but him could read them. He would add this one to the collection before he retired for the night, but for now he would enjoy the fire and ale after a long day killing giant spiders for a farmer. He became absorbed in his book, not paying attention to his surroundings, too lost in thought and feeling content where he lounged gracefully in the chair before the fire. He didn’t notice the inn doors open, he didn’t care who entered and walked over to the bar. He was only vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps behind him. He was too busy thinking about Mara crawling into his lap naked, whispering his name and kissing him deeply, tasting like him –

And then suddenly someone was in his lap, a heavier someone who shocked him out of his reveries with ample tanned flesh thrust in his face, pushing his book out of his hand.

“What are the odds?” a sultry voice said. “Just what I need, too – it’s been _ages_ since I had a proper fuck.”

Hawke stared, a mixture of emotions chasing each other through his mind as he peered up into the heavily kohl-rimmed brown eyes staring down into his.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me hello, darling?” Isabela purred.


	17. Regrets and Hopes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Champion struggles with his past, while the Inquisitor struggles with the idea of a future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to be horribly mean and switch to what's going on with Mara right away, but it was going to cause too many time jumps back and forth between what's happeing in Jader and the trip to Halamshiral.
> 
> So you get a bit of a reprieve and not so much of a cliff hanger as it was going to be.
> 
> xx,  
> L

“I wish you could see the look on your face,” the pirate laughed. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost! You didn’t think I was dead, did you?”

Hawke swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. He had definitely not expected to run into  _ her _ in Jader, of all people. He pushed himself up in the chair, but all it did was move her with him, straddling and grinding his half-hard cock. He’d been thinking of Mara only moments before, he’d been thinking of her sitting astride him like this, of her soft lips tasting like him as they kissed. He was remembering the look in her stormy grey eyes as she half-whimpered his name with desire, the most heavenly sound he’d ever heard. Just the memory of that sound was enough to get him throbbing in his breeches with want for her. But he knew as soon as he moved that Isabela had noticed his arousal, and knew what she would think.

“Oh darling,  _ perfect _ ,” she purred and leaned toward him. “I knew you missed me.”

Isabela lowered her mouth to his and slid her tongue into his mouth immediately in the bold way she always had, the way that used to drive him wild. Except now the intrusion of her tongue felt repulsive, and after only a moment of shock to register what was happening, he pulled away from her.

“What is it? Are you angry I didn’t write?” she put a hand on his cheek and tried to turn his face back to hers. “You know we were never the type to be tied down, surely you can’t be miffed still – it was five years ago.”

“ _ You _ were never the type to be tied down,” Hawke gritted out. “Get off me, Isabela.”

He gripped her arms and pushed her back, trying to force her off his lap. She tightened her thighs on either side of his, though, and wouldn’t budge.

“Oh come now, you can’t seriously think that we’re not -” she began.

“Isabela, I said get  _ off _ ,” he growled and he shoved harder.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she asked as she toppled onto the floor as he managed at last to stand up from the chair.

“You’re what’s wrong with me,” Hawke grabbed his book from where it had fallen and drained his ale in one gulp before he slammed it back onto the wooden table. “You left five years ago – that was the end of it.”

Isabela pushed herself to her feet and stared at him, surprised indignation etched on her voluptuous features. “Garrett, really -”

“ _ Don’t _ call me that,” he said through clenched teeth, his nerves positively grating at the sound of her saying his given name.

“What’s happened to you since I left?” she put her hands on her hips. “You’ve gotten positively  _ dull _ . I thought you’d be happy for a chance to catch up, just like we used to -”

“There’s nothing to catch up on,” he finally turned to head toward the stairs to the rooms. “As I said, as far as I’m concerned - five years ago was the end of it.”

Hawke threw his book onto the bed and quickly locked the door, seething. He wiped his face, trying to get the feeling of her tongue out of his mouth. Of course –  _ of course _ he had to run into her now, when she was the last person in Thedas he wanted to see. He shouldn’t have chosen a town with a port, but all he’d thought about was how easy it was to reach, how close he would be to Skyhold.

He pulled the letter from his vest, the one he’d been reading not long before Isabela’s arrival, and opened it to reread. The elegant slant of her writing was comforting, the playful way she signed it ‘Your little minx’ made his breathing calm, his heart slow. That was what he wanted; sweet, witty Mara, her grey eyes filled with lust and love tangled together in their depths, the blissful feeling of being inside her as she cried his name. He felt himself hardening again, thinking of the smell of her; all fresh citrus, almost like orange and vanilla, and the way she tasted sweeter than honey to him. Isabela had smelled of too much ale and spirits, of the smokes she used to enjoy, and he shook his head as he tried to clear the scent from his mind.

He folded the letter once more and laid down on the floor, stretching out his hand under the bed. All it took was a simple moment of concentration and he removed the enchantment he had on the other letters so he could pull them out from their hiding place. He wouldn’t have been so paranoid about their location if he weren’t writing to the Inquisitor, of all people, and so he had taken extra precaution to protect them. Now that he knew Isabela was around, he wondered if he needed to take more – locks wouldn’t keep her out, he knew that much.

Slipping the newest letter into the bundle, he sighed as he contemplated what to do. For the moment, he’d have to trust that they were safe in their hiding place with an enchantment on them. He had no other ideas of what to do with them to keep them out of anyone else’s hands. So he placed them back under the bed, tucked away, and placed the trap back on them carefully.

He seriously considered trapping his door too, but decided against it. It wasn’t like he was some helpless maiden. He didn’t need more than the lock. Even if she picked it, he could still easily get her out of the room. He stripped down and got into bed, torn between anger, anxiety, and longing. He’d gotten comfortable here in Jader, but now his routine was thrown and his restlessness increased tenfold. He determined to take on more jobs, maybe some outside of the city, in case Isabela was sticking around for a while. That way he could at least avoid her during the day.

In the morning, Hawke made sure to carefully lock his room, setting a small enchantment as a trap so that he would know if it was disturbed while he was gone. He wolfed down his normal breakfast and hurriedly left to check the Chantry board. He’d seen a posting the day before about bandits outside the city, and he decided today was an excellent time to take care of that particular problem.

His pursuit of the bandits took all day, taking him out of the city by several miles, and then he spent time making sure he had gotten rid of every last one of them. He found some of the possessions that had been reported stolen by travelers and residents, and he packed his satchel with them to bring back with him. By the time he returned it was dark, and when he was done handing everything over to the Chanter and getting his pay, he ended up back to the inn much later than he normally did.

“Ah, Messere Hawke! I was beginning to worry. I’ve got yer usual letter, and yer dinner and ale will be right out for ye,” Tommas the innkeeper greeted him fondly. He took the letter, a little surprised, and threw himself into his usual chair. He didn’t glance to the corner where Isabela sat, but he could tell she was watching him curiously.

He tore open the seal of the scroll and was pleased to see the beloved scrawl across the parchment.

 

> _    Garrett, _
> 
> _ Just because I said it would be hard to send letters didn’t mean I wouldn’t still try. You know how much I love doing things that are hard. _
> 
> _ This journey is already incredibly boring without you, and it’s only the first day. Varric’s stories are wonderful but lacking a certain something without your colorful commentary to accompany them. _
> 
> _ My tent feels overly large now, too, which is something I never thought I’d say. I keep remembering the last time we traveled into Orlais, and the memories are pleasant but just make the tent feel even bigger. Remember the night I was worried about Adamant, when you sang my praises while you were inside me? You were right – that love bite did make me feel better. _
> 
> _ I’m less worried this time, even though Leliana keeps insisting the Grand Game is just as dangerous as blood magic rituals. I’m not convinced. The worst thing about nobles is their sense of fashion. And their over-inflated egos, can’t forget that. Also the fact that you won’t be there to make fun of them with me. Seeing you at a ball would be worth going to one. We should attend one - we’re both from noble families and people seem to think we’re important, I’m sure we could sneak in to one easily. Remind me we should do that sometime. _
> 
> _    Your little minx, _
> 
> _    Mara _

 

Hawke chuckled softly to himself and folded the letter, sliding it into his vest as he always did. It was one of her most intimate letters yet, and he realized it must be due to her recollections as she traveled. He vividly recalled the last time they’d traveled together, and the memories of all the things he’d done to her in their tent distracted him from his current irritation.

Tommas brought over his dinner and ale and Hawke slipped him his usual coins with gratitude before he tucked in to the hot meal.

“So what are you doing in Jader, of all places?” a voice sounded beside him, and he looked up to see Isabela taking the other armchair before the fire. She crossed her legs, which on anyone else wouldn’t manage to look as suggestive as it looked when she did it. She took a gulp from the tankard she held as she watched him.

His cheeks flexed, his jaw clenched as he considered. “Seemed as good a place as any for the time being,” he finally answered.

“Oh is that so? I didn’t think you’d like Orlais this much. Tommas said you’ve been here for over two weeks now,” Isabela mused, not keeping her eyes off him.

“I can’t seem to get enough of the accent,” he deadpanned. The distraction Mara’s letter had provided from his irritation was gone. He just wanted to finish his meal and leave. Or maybe leave without finishing eating – his appetite seemed to be disappearing rapidly.

“Really? Because it seems more like you’re waiting for something,” Isabela raised her eyebrow as she took another drink.

“What do you want?” Hawke snapped.

“Do I have to want anything? We used to be close.”

“And now we’re not.”

“That doesn’t have to be the case,” Isabela purred and batted her eyelashes. “Oh come on, it’s obvious you need someone in your bed, you’re edgier than Anders around Templars.”

Hawke seethed. It was true he needed someone in his bed, but for the first time in his life he needed a particular person in his bed, not just the nearest warm, willing body. But the fact that she invoked Anders felt like a twist of the knife. “Do you even know that Anders is dead?”

“Of course, I even read  _ The Tale of the Champion  _ for the full story after I heard,” she shrugged. “I’m a little disappointed with how Varric talked about me -”

“You’re unbelievable, do you know that?” Hawke drained his tankard and stood.

“Anders was a wreck, it was only a matter of time. Plus that was two years ago – sure I was sad when I heard, but you can’t live in the past,” she finished her own ale and stood as well. “Now come on, darling, let’s go to your room -”

“No,” he growled, his tone deadly, final. He marched away from her and headed to his room.

Again he locked his door and stashed away his new letter before he stripped and got into bed. He tried to recall what Mara had written about, he tried to lose himself in the memories of their journey to Adamant. His current anger and despair suddenly conjured their fight, the way she had looked at him as she cried.

He shook himself, trying not to let his mood blacken further. He was angry at Isabela, that was all. Mara had written him. She was writing daily, she was saying they should sneak into a ball together and cause trouble –  _ together _ , in an implied future. Hawke closed his eyes and pictured it; drinking wine and mocking other nobles before sneaking into an empty room together. Maybe having sex so loud everyone knew, scandalizing the guests, making them gossip about it…

On that happier note he finally drifted off, his dreams full of the sight of her moaning his name and arching her back beneath him.

* * *

  

“Kid, come on, you’re running late,” Varric scolded her.

“Just one more moment, almost done,” Mara answered, hurriedly scribbling one last line on the letter she was working on. She finished it and smiled, content with the playful hints it contained, and signed her name under ‘Your little minx’ like she had been for the last several letters. “Jim!” she called to one of the scouts as she rolled the scroll and sealed it.

“Yes, Inquisitor?” the scout answered as he turned to face her.

“Do me a favor, can you send this one as well? Same place as before,” she handed the scroll over and he nodded. She watched him walk away to the cage of ravens they had with them.

“Are you done? Hurry up,” Varric rolled his eyes and picked up his satchel to pack on his smaller horse.

Mara kept smiling as she straightened her own saddle, fixing her pack on her mount before she pulled herself up to sit astride it. They were halfway to Halamshiral, and though she’d sent a message letting Hawke know she might miss a few letters, she had yet to actually do so. She’d asked Leliana how long the letters might be taking to reach Jader, as if curious about it hypothetically, like she wondered at the distance to the Ferelden border. The spymaster had told her they were at least one to two days away by raven. She knew while they were traveling she’d be unable to receive his letters, but she hoped to return to Skyhold to find a pile waiting for her.

Hawke sounded like he was enjoying Jader, or at least as much as he could. She could tell there was a restlessness in his letters, an eagerness to hear from her, an impatience for her answer. It was clear to her he was trying to fill his time with as much as he could, and he’d started taking on odd jobs like a mercenary, not even for coin but just to stay busy. She wasn’t delaying to be cruel and she hoped he realized that. She was trying to determine her own desires and intentions. She loved him; she had never been more certain of anything in her life. She wanted to be with him, more than anything. But her life was chaotic, her role as the Inquisitor was giving her pause.

Could she even let herself dream that there was a future for her, with everything going on? Corypheus was still out there, the Anchor was still on her hand, all of Thedas was still on the brink of collapse, all of it relying on her. She was consumed with the day to day, only able to consider survival and saving Thedas. She wondered if it would be crueler to let them hope there might be a future for them, that the Inquisition could succeed, that there could be anything after all of this chaos. She stayed up at night wondering what would happen to him if she died. He’d already lost so much, she wondered if he would be able to survive losing her too if she died in her work for the Inquisition. The idea of what he may do if she died tied her stomach in knots until she felt sick. It was a very real possibility, as much as she tried to avoid considering that awful truth. She hadn’t ever given it much thought at all, at least not until she’d met him.

She needed to find the answers to these musings before she sent for him. She had to find the strength to hope for the future she longed for so much, the future she pictured with him. Thedas saved. A house somewhere together. She’d even learn to cook for him, she’d try to make it a home for them to live in. They’d spend their days and nights wrapped up with each other, making love until they fell asleep from exhaustion. The image of black-haired, blue-eyed babies was becoming more focused, more tangible. She’d never thought about motherhood before, but the idea of watching a gaggle of his children running around together getting into trouble made her heart ache, a new longing she’d never entertained or wanted before. She couldn’t decide how many she wanted, all she knew was that so long as they were anything like him, she’d have as many as she could.

Mara had stopped trying to hide the red scarf, instead wearing it tied to her wrist on the outside of her armor where anyone could see it as they traveled. Varric smirked every time he saw it, shaking his head at some private musing the sight inspired in him. When she asked him about it finally, he chuckled. “I never thought I’d play matchmaker for the Champion and the Inquisitor, that’s all. It makes damned good sense, though.”

She laughed with him, understanding what he meant. She knew now how much Hawke had been told about her before his arrival at Skyhold, and realized now how calculated and anticipated his invitation to his room that first night had really been. She’d thought he just wanted to fuck, that he’d only noticed she was attractive and figured it would be a fun way to spend a night. She had no idea he’d actually wanted it from the first and waited to make sure she was truly interested as well. It made the memory even fonder, now that she knew.


	18. Fire and Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor muses over her youth while at the Winter Palace.  
> The Champion finally confronts his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no need to get bogged down in canon at the Winter Palace, so enjoy some Mara back story instead.
> 
> I feel like maybe it should be said, but there's some...not dubious consent or anything major, but some 'Isabela comes on really strong' content in this chapter. Just in case that bothers you.
> 
> xx,  
> L

All she could think while she walked through the Winter Palace was how much he’d be laughing his ass off. The masks the Orlesians wore were positively ridiculous, and she wished he were there to ridicule them to their (masked) faces while she laughed beside him. Instead she had to walk with her head held high, her chin lifted as if she were looking down on all the nobles around her. That much, at least, she remembered from her noble upbringing and etiquettte lessons that were forced upon her when she was younger.

She remembered attending balls after she’d been presented in her teens. She’d always snuck away with a few of the servants or stable hands with bottles of wine. She prefered to get drunk with the commoners rather than play the confining role of the Bann’s daughter. They’d played strip Wicked Grace, or dared each other to attempt impossible or embarrassing feats. Once they’d all gone skinny dipping in the family’s small lake and almost gotten caught. She’d even lost her virginity at one of the balls, sneaking away with a young stable hand, a few years her senior but awkward and shy in front of the beautiful, young Lady Trevelyan. She’d flirted with him for weeks when she had noticed how he always looked at her with such blatant desire evident in his brown eyes, and she had realized she had only to ask. After sharing a glass of wine she’d encouraged him to ply her for the honor of her virginity, letting him sweet talk her and fumble nervously under her fancy dress with his calloused hands and large, rough fingers.

It had been endearing; his hands had always been dirty from his day’s work, but she could tell he’d put in extra effort that night to clean under his nails in the hope that she’d let him touch her. He had been sweet but almost too eager, and unfortunately in the end slightly disappointing in his keen haste. But still she thought of the memory fondly, remembering how when he finished he had thanked her, as if she’d given him the greatest gift he could ever imagine receiving. She remembered too the smell of the stables mingling with the smell of sex, and the way her mother had later picked hay out of her hair and asked her where it had come from. She’d lied and said she had tripped, hoping her mother didn’t notice her flush as she thought of the stable hand’s sweaty face above her as he panted and thrust enthusiastically into her.

Her mother had always been frustrated with her lack of interest in balls and social graces, and while her father pretended to agree, she could tell he was secretly thrilled that she was so impetuous and untamed. She was the youngest of five, and her older siblings were all more interested in titles, money, and what connections they could make. Mara had had little interest in any of that, and had spent her youth running wild in her family’s estate. She had spent her days training with the soldiers, drinking, sneaking out with some of the young men pledged to her father, and getting into what trouble she could find. Every time her mother scolded her for her lack of discipline, her father had sat behind his wife’s rigid form fighting a smirk. He’d been quite a rogue in his own youth, and he was proud at least one of his children was following in his footsteps instead of obsessing over the Trevelyan line and its destiny as her mother always did.

Mara’s knack for sneaking away at balls came in handy now as she made her way through the Winter Palace, trying to find clues and blackmail material. Eavesdropping came easily to her, blending and slipping away without being noticed came even easier. She found her way into all of the restricted areas of the Palace, digging through bedrooms and storage areas for information that could help. Soon she was building a web of information that could make or break the Orlesian Empire, and even Leliana seemed impressed at how much she was accomplishing.

She gleefully took the opportunity to shock the court by dancing with the Duchess Florianne to get information, delighting in the way the whispers followed every move she made on the dance floor. She found herself wishing Hawke had been there to see; he would have been impressed with how blatantly she tried to goad the nobles into gossiping about her. It seemed exactly like the sort of thing he would do.

By the end of the night, when everything was said and done, she was just happy that it was over. The Empress was saved, the Empire reunited and more stable, the Elves had more of a say in the court with Briala named Ambassador, but Mara just wanted to sleep. And fuck. But she only had one of those desires available to her, and so she gladly retired for rest when she was finished playing the Grand Game. Soon she would head back to Skyhold, where she hoped to find a letter for each day she had been away. She longed to see his handwriting again, its slightly untidy scrawl always giving away his impatience to get the words out. He was so verbose it was funny to read his written words; they gave away his irritation that writing took more time than speaking aloud. She loved it.

She still wasn’t sure what she could do to answer him. She knew what she really wanted was to tell him to head to Skyhold immediately, that she wanted to be with him more than she wanted to keep breathing. But she still needed to think, she needed to weigh the possibilities for the future and whether or not she thought she had one. She hated the idea that she could hurt him, that she could leave him all alone again. The fear made her doubt, it made her hesitate, it made her delay what she truly wanted.

 

* * *

 

For a week now he’d been burying himself in random odd jobs, trying to stay away from the inn until late so that he could avoid  _ her _ as much as he could. He’d even taken up spending a few hours helping the blacksmith every day, doing everything from relighting his forge with his magic to helping craft simple pieces. He was bored and restless beyond endurance, but he kept working, he kept busy, he managed to distract himself everyday so that he didn’t pack up and leave. He had told her he would stay, and he meant it. Normally by now he would have moved on, he would have moved to the next small town and taken up residence in its inn, helped its people, and moved on in a week or two. It had been an endless cycle of traveling to a new town and moving on shortly after for almost two years straight now, and not doing so was unfamiliar to him.

Waiting for word from her was worth it, though.

Every night in the inn, he took his seat in his usual armchair and Tommas brought over his letter, ale, and dinner. Isabela was almost always in the common room as well, drinking and gambling or trying to entice someone into her bed. Hawke did his best to ignore her, even if she came over to speak to him. The sight of her set his blood boiling, but this was where Mara knew she could reach him – he couldn’t leave. He wouldn’t leave.

Isabela couldn’t scare him off from his promise.

After a week and a half of Isabela watching him get a letter delivered every evening, she finally made what seemed to be a long-calculated and carefully considered move.

Hawke didn’t notice her watching him so intently that evening as he was thoroughly distracted by Mara’s words.

 

> _ Garrett, _
> 
> _ It’s positively dreary without you, this trip is taking too damn long. We’re going to arrive at the Winter Palace tomorrow, but Maker I don’t want to go. _
> 
> _ I keep thinking about the night we broke our record – do you remember? I’ve never been more thoroughly, deliciously exhausted. I remember napping, after you’d taken me so roughly to pay me back for teasing you.  _ Maker _ if you only knew, if I could only put into words the way it felt to wake up to your tongue working so keenly on me. Coming to while nearly coming undone has to be my favorite thing in all of Thedas – and you’re ever so eager to wake me up that way. I never thought anyone could enjoy doing that as much as you do, and I find myself so thrilled and grateful that you do. _
> 
> _ I was thinking about it last night, I couldn’t help it – I slid my finger down and tried to mimic how it felt, but it couldn’t compete at all. There’s something so perfect about the way you do it, the feeling of your wet, hot breath on me and the slow teasing rhythm you take up to excite me. Oh, Garrett, if you were here right now you’d know just how much I want you, how much I think about you. I’m so wet my smallclothes are drenched, I’m throbbing and it’s positively intoxicating; I’ve never needed to feel your hard cock inside me more. _
> 
> _ My finger is a poor substitute, but I spend my time before sleep every night teasing myself with it anyway, closing my eyes and trying to imagine it’s you touching me instead. Two of my fingers inside myself don’t come close to the feeling of two of yours, nor of your cock – you’re delightfully  _ large _. I can’t get enough of how it hurts so wonderfully, bordering pleasure and pain with its size when you first push into me each time. Especially that first night – it’s amazing beyond words, every time. I keep having to use more fingers on myself, I try to thrust them like you would, but it just doesn’t have the same feeling. I ache for you, I long for the feeling of you working your tongue and your fingers on me. I long for the feeling of you thrusting so roughly into me, possessing me so completely – _
> 
> _ Oh, fuck – I just came. _
> 
> _ I thought you might like that, the idea that I wrote this to you while I was touching myself. _
> 
> _ Remember that second night we spent together? When you caught me touching myself and thinking about you? You called me your depraved little whore. _
> 
> _ I am. _
> 
> _ I can’t think about you without thinking about all of the things I’d do to you if you were here, all the ways I’d let you fuck me, all the ways I’d beg you. _
> 
> _ Fuck, I want to come again. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? The knowledge that simply writing a letter to you, describing the things I miss, has gotten me to…ohh...come twice. Fuck, it  _ _ has _ _. _
> 
> _ You know that feeling, you know how I clench and clutch at you, how I grind myself against you when I lose myself. The way I whimper and say your name. It’s not the same without you, but fuck do I enjoy letting you know I’m doing that while thinking about you. _
> 
> _ I’m still so wet and throbbing, and I wish you were here to lick up all of my sweet nectar, to call me your little minx or your pet, making me come again and again until you finally pour yourself into me. _
> 
> _ I’ve never told you how much I love that. Oh Garrett, the way you come inside me is almost sinful, it’s so decadent I could never get enough of it. Ever since the first time, I’ve wanted and needed that feeling desperately. The way you moan and frown a little, the way you smirk, the way you thrust yourself into me to prolong it and enjoy the aftershocks…fuck Garrett, I want to come again just thinking about it. _
> 
> _ If this isn’t enough to let you know, I’m thinking of you all the time. _
> 
> _ Be patient. You won’t be exiled to Jader forever, I promise. I could never get enough of you, I never  _ _ want _ _ to get enough of you. Just wait a bit longer, trust me. Then we’ll be able to taste, touch, and fuck each other again. _
> 
> _    Your depraved little whore, _
> 
> _    Mara _

 

Hawke’s head was spinning when he finished the letter, which was suddenly so different from the others. He cleared his throat, trying to keep his arousal to himself, knowing that he would revisit the letter later in his room, alone. He folded it and placed it in his leather vest, as he did every night. He should have known it was too predictable, that the damned Pirate Queen was watching his every action every night he was in the common room.

He went back to reading his book, he sipped his wine. And suddenly out of nowhere, a hand slithered under his vest and pulled the letter from where it rested against his chest.

He bolted out of the chair, turning and glaring at her as she began to unfold the letter with a smirk.

“Stop that, right now,” he demanded harshly, and he made to snatch the letter back from her. But she was too fast, she was always too fast. He knew from all of the battles they’d been in, from the way that they had fucked. She was agile and quicker than lightning.

Isabela had managed to get it unfolded and was perusing the first few lines. “So she calls you Garrett?” she purred, looking up at him before she returned her gaze to the letter.

He knew what those first few lines said. He had reread the letter a few times before he’d folded it and tried to put it away. He didn’t want her to see those words, he didn’t want her to see Mara describing the things they had done together. Isabela would cheapen them, she would try to draw comparisons between what they had done. She would try to say they were the same as what he’d done with her, but it wasn’t even close.

With Isabela, he realized now, somehow it had always felt cold, empty, hollow.

With Mara, it made him feel more alive than anything else ever had. He’d never felt more warmth and fulfillment. More whole.

The two were like night and day, fire and ice.

He had thought he loved Isabela. He knew now how wrong he was. He had wanted Isabela, he had lusted for her tits and her ass, he had loved that she wanted him to treat her like a whore he had paid. He thought somehow that that meant love, he thought that he wanted her to stay with him always and only let him fuck her the way he did. Even though he knew she was busy fucking everyone else in Kirkwall at the same time. Even Fenris had shared her bed, he knew, despite the fact that Hawke thought she was his. But he knew now he had never felt for her the way he felt for Mara, the way he thought about her and how much he loved her. And he knew, Mara wasn’t interested in fucking anyone else. He believed her the morning he asked her, he knew she had meant it. It had only been him, since the first time.

He hadn’t lied in the letter he sent her – she was the light of his life, after so many years of darkness.

And Isabela was certainly a part of that darkness.

She was still looking over the letter, her lips pursed seductively and her eyebrow raised. He couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t stand her seeing those words written by his beloved.

It pained him to do it, but he had to.

Hawke concentrated and snapped his fingers, and the letter burst into flames.

Isabela shrieked and dropped the flaming parchment, then raised her eyes to Hawke’s, indignant and enraged. “You could have burnt me!” she cried.

“You should have listened to me and given it back,” he ground out. “Or better yet not taken it from me in the first place.”

She glowered at him. “I knew you had to be waiting here for something, I knew those letters had to be a part of it,” she spat at him. “So who is she, this new whore of yours? She must really be something if you won’t even fuck  _ me _ , after everything we -”

“Don’t act like we had anything special,” he felt his voice rising. “I know for a fact you never thought of it that way. Don’t act like the injured party now.”

“Of course it was spec -”

“No, it wasn’t. And I was a fool to ever think you could be capable of any sort of feeling. You’re a cold bitch, Isabela,” he sneered at her. “You can’t possibly be angry that I figured it out and moved on to someone better, someone warmer. Especially not after five years apart.”

Her eyes were positively shooting daggers at him. He was surprised, since he hadn’t expected her to be so upset by his rejection. It almost seemed uncharacteristic for her; maybe in her own way, he had been special to her. Although special to her probably just meant a preferable fuck, compared to the others. She had said it when she saw him here in the inn; she was happy to see him because she hadn’t had a ‘proper fuck’ in ages. That was all he was, all he had ever been. He wished he’d seen it sooner, he wished he hadn’t spent so much time wallowing over what he saw as her betrayal. He wondered over how many years of pain he could have saved himself if he had.

“Is that what you -” she began, but she seemed unable to finish.

He didn’t want to keep speaking with her, he didn’t want to keep looking at her. He gave one last mournful glance to the burnt letter at her feet and then grabbed his book and made his way to the stairs to his room.

__

* * *

 

 It was the overpowering smell of ale that woke him up. He felt a hand pulling the sheets back, another dragging its nails down his chest, and he sat up with a start.

“Hawke,  _ fuck _ me,” a voice purred.

“Isabela, this is too far,” he pushed her off of him and she fell back to the foot of the bed.

“You need a fuck, it’s obvious,” she slurred, and he realized just how much she’d had to drink. “You can hate me and be angry at me during, I know you want to be – I always liked it when you got rough with me. No one else can quite hit the same spot you did when you fucked me like that after we’d fight, when you were angry.”

“I told you no,” he gritted out. “What are you thinking? How many possible ways can I tell you to  _ leave me alone _ ?”

“I’m not saying you have to fall back in love with me again, poor dear,” she groaned. “I just want to fuck. I’ve missed your cock – and that thing you do with your tongue, remember? I know you can still do it, her letter made it sound like -”

“Shut the fuck up,” he whispered dangerously, feeling every muscle tense. He couldn’t hear her compare the two. They were completely different, he knew it.

Hawke buried his face in his hands, thoroughly aggravated. It was unbearable. Even just a year ago, he would have taken her up on it immediately and just hated himself for it in the morning. But now, when he was finally past it, when he finally had someone loving to think about, she came crawling back into his life. His mind taunted him with Mara’s words in her letter, that he wouldn’t be in exile forever. But why was he still? He didn’t know, he couldn’t make out the reason.

For the briefest moment, he doubted she would send for him.

For the briefest moment he pictured Isabela astride him, the way her large tits used to bounce when she rode him. The way she used to bend over for him whenever he wanted, the many times she’d sucked him in a half-hidden, dark corner of wherever they happened to be, where they could get caught at any moment.

For the briefest moment, he was tempted.

But he remembered something else. He remembered when she left. He remembered just a few days ago, when she acted like Anders’ fate was predictable, not worth grieving.

He remembered hearing men in the Hanged Man talk about how they’d all fucked her, how he’d tried to ignore it, how he’d ignored knowing that it meant she’d never truly be loyal.

And then he remembered Mara sleeping in his arms, the way he slept more deeply and peacefully when she was there.

He remembered the timid way she had come to his room the first time, hesitant and thinking it was a joke, not knowing how much he longed for her. The way that she’d confessed that truth so quietly, but then blossomed wantonly under his lustful gaze after he assured her he wanted her. She’d taken him in her mouth as if she’d thought about doing it for longer than she should admit, her timidity finally fleeing as her confidence grew under his attention.

The way she looked at him with blatant worship and admiration in her eyes when he took her the first time, the first time he made her come so easily.

“Isabela,” he said finally, his tone firm. “Never. Again.”

“What’s wrong with you? You can’t tell me you don’t still want this,” she grabbed his hand and pressed it between her legs. She was naked and wet, and managed to slide one of his fingertips in her opening.

He pulled his hand away like he’d been scalded. “Fuck, Isabela -”

“Yes, exactly! That’s what I want,” she tried to get back on her knees and leaned toward his cock with her mouth.

He hopped out of bed away from her. “I love her,” he said at last, fed up and angry, hating that he had to confess that to get her to leave him alone.

He could see her staring through the darkness at him, incredulous. “Then where is she?” she taunted. “Why are you here alone, waiting like some idiotic fool for word from her everyday, like a slave?”

Hawke faltered for the briefest moment.

“Because she’s worth waiting for,” he declared quietly. “Forever, if I have to.”

“Oh please, no bit of cunt is worth that,” Isabela jeered.

“She is.”

Isabela stared at him, an odd, scathing look on her face. “The unconcerned, free, libertine Garrett Hawke is waiting in Jader for some pretty little wench, to do her bidding and hop to when she says ‘jump.’ I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Well, I do like to do the unexpected and surprise everyone,” he said bitterly. “Now please, get the fuck out of my room.”

Hawke sprang out of bed with the sun, quickly dressing. He had sat up all night after he’d forced Isabela out of his room, thinking hard. He’d weighed all of the consequences, he’d tried to decide his best course of action.

He’d promised to wait. But this was torture he couldn’t endure. He would have waited forever if he hadn’t had to deal with his past trying to break him like this. He wouldn’t go back on his word if it weren’t for this.

He quickly packed his things and donned his armor before he left his room, intending to seek out Tommas to make sure he was settled up and get some rations to start his journey. After a brief conversation, in which he also instructed him to burn any more letters that were sent addressed to him, he slipped the man several sovereigns and made his way to the stable to get his horse.

He loaded his satchel and packed his saddle before he pulled himself astride the mount and set out on the road.

If he really pushed himself, if he didn’t hesitate or meander at all, he could easily make it. He checked his map once to be sure he followed the right fork, and then he set off.


	19. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor is faced with a few surprises.

Mara quickly picked up her satchel from her saddle, passing the reins to Master Dennet with a word of thanks before she hurried off. She walked briskly through the courtyard, to the stairs of the Keep and took them two at a time. She felt like an eager child on her birthday, but the anticipation of twenty-one letters waiting for her was almost too much. She was curious what his response would be to the letter she had sent – the longest one, the one where she told him how much she longed for him.

She carefully closed the door to her quarters behind her and again mounted the stairs two at a time. Without a second glance she threw her satchel on the floor and raced to her desk where she saw the pile of letters waiting for her. Yet somehow, it looked smaller than she expected. Like a spoiled child on her birthday looking for more gifts, she flipped through the letters and counted them.

There was only eleven.

Mara frowned deeply, thoroughly confused. She began to tear into them, one at a time. They had been dating their letters for each other, because of the delay in delivery, and she checked each corner to see if maybe he hadn’t written every day. But there they were, all in order, one each day – for only the first eleven days. And they stopped after he should have received her longest, the one she wanted a response to the most.

Skimming them quickly, she tried to figure out why the letters had stopped so suddenly. The content of the letters was completely normal, though, with no indication that anything had happened or changed.

 

> _ Mara, _
> 
> _ Forget my defeat of the Arishok, tell Varric he needs to write ‘The Tale of the Champion When He Helped a Young Girl Find Her Cat Up a Tree and it Nearly Clawed Him to Death in Thanks.’ _

 

She set it aside without reading the rest for the next.

 

> _ Mara, _
> 
> _ I need to ask Tommas for the recipe for his stew, it’s amazing – maybe I’ll try to learn how to make it for you. First I’d have to learn how to cook…or boil water. I have magic, that should help, right? _
> 
> She threw that one on the desk and flipped to the last letter, looking at the end to see if he said anything about stopping writing, or going anywhere.
> 
> _ If being Champion stops paying off, I think I have a future as a blacksmith. I finally made some nails that could actually hold things together, so I think I could open my own smithy now. As long as people don’t mind everything being a bit crooked. They’d pay well for items made by the Champion of Kirkwall though. Think about it – you could help around the shop, selling what poorly crafted items I make. It could be fun. _
> 
> _    Garrett _

 

There wasn’t anything about leaving Jader, there wasn’t anything about stopping writing, even for a few days. A multitude of emotions overcame her and chased each other through her mind.

What if something had happened to him?

What if he was hurt?

What if he was dead?

What if he had decided to stop waiting?

What if he had left?

What if she’d made him wait too long, and he’d given up?

What if he didn’t love her?

Her hands were shaking, and she looked around her quarters as she thought. Maybe something had happened in Jader, or maybe there was a delay with messages. She could ask Leliana, she would know if there was another reason he hadn’t written.

Determining to seek out the spymaster, she ran down the stairs and out into the Main Hall.

“Jim!” she called out when she saw the scout ahead of her. “Have you seen Sister Leliana?”

“She’s still in the courtyard, I believe,” the scout answered, and Mara tore through the Hall and out the front doors.

She made it halfway down the stairs when she stopped dead in her tracks.

 

* * *

 

 Hawke hadn’t realized he’d timed his journey so perfectly. It was obvious the Inquisition had just returned from the Winter Palace, which meant that she hadn’t been back long; maybe she had only just noticed the missing letters. He dismounted his horse and passed the reins to one of the stable hands with his thanks.

He turned to head to the stairs and happened to glance up. She was there, standing on the landing in the middle of the staircase, staring down at him with surprise evident even across this distance.

His face broke into a wide grin – just seeing her made all of his concerns disappear, all of the troubling thoughts that had plagued him the whole way from Jader. She was still just staring at him, and if he weren’t wrong, she almost looked scared and upset.

He’d fix that, he’d fix everything.

He raced through the courtyard to the stairs and ran up them, stopping a few steps below her. She was still staring at him as he approached as if she couldn’t believe he was there.

“You said you’d wait,” she quietly greeted him, wide-eyed, still looking upset.

“I – I couldn’t stay in Jader any longer,” he answered. He knew he needed to tell her, he needed to be honest. “I would have stayed. Forever, if I needed to. But – Isabela showed up. She was there, she -”

He hadn’t thought that her eyes could get wider. She almost looked close to tears.

“She –  _ she _ – oh,  _ you _ ,” she spun and turned to run into the keep.

“Wait, Mara -” he mounted the stairs to chase after her, taking them three at a time.

He chased her across the Main Hall, but she reached the door to her quarters and slammed it in his face. He heard the lock turn.

Hawke hadn’t come this far just to fight with her. He had something to say to her, and he wasn’t going to let a locked door stand in his way. He stared at it and considered for one moment, and decided he was done being a coward.

He gave one flare of his magic, and the door burst open and slammed against the wall.

Mara turned at the sound and stared at him in shock. “How dare -”

Hawke marched through the door and wrapped his arms around her legs, stooping and throwing her over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” she cried, and he felt her hitting his back with her fists.

“No, I need you to listen to me,” he growled, and he mounted the stairs into her room as quickly as he could.

Mara was still trying to protest, calling him names and wriggling as if she could free herself. He smirked a little, realizing that if she really wanted to, she could easily get out of his grasp. He threw her back on the bed and stretched himself over her, pinning her down with his weight.

“Damn it, Garrett,” she was staring up at him, indignation evident on her face. But her hands were resting above her head, and he saw her fingers twitch a little like she wanted to reach up and touch him.

He held her gaze for a long moment, drinking in the beautiful grey of her eyes. As much as he’d been picturing them, his memories hadn’t quite been close to capturing how they really looked. He found himself momentarily speechless to be this close to her again.

He’d come here to talk to her though, and he tried to redirect his thoughts.

He tried to remember everything he needed to say, everything he needed to say in person.

I’m sorry.

Forgive me.

I never should have left.

But there were three words he’d thought about the whole time he’d been on the road from Jader, three words he wanted to say.

He’d never been more serious about anything in his life.

He’d never wanted to say anything more, which was surprising considering how much he enjoyed talking.

He smiled slightly as he looked at her still glaring up at him, waiting for him to speak.

And finally he did. 

“Marry me, Mara.”


	20. An Answer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor answers the Champion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't mean to be so cruel with my cliff hangers, but...
> 
> I just can't resist sometimes.
> 
> Enjoy! xx,  
> L

“What?” she whispered, not quite sure she had heard him correctly.

His sapphire eyes were sparkling, but not with humor. He didn’t look like he was joking. He had that passion in his eyes that she’d noticed before when he meant exactly what he was saying.

He was still smiling down at her.

“Marry me,” he repeated, and he leaned down and kissed her.

It was bliss, pure heaven, feeling his lips against hers once more. His tongue softly searched hers out, moving slowly and intently.

“Marry me,” he whispered against her lips, and his hands moved to the fastenings of her top and began to undo them. He left a trail of hot, wet kisses down the column of her throat as he moved lower, searching out the breasts he was working to free.

She was gasping, overcome with emotion and sensation, unable to form words, speechless from his request. He’d freed her from her top and the band she wore across her chest, and he found the red silk scarf where she had had it, stashed safely over her heart.

He stared at it for a moment, an intense, indecipherable look on his face as he took in the sight of it, the location she’d had it. He smiled up at her. “Marry me,” he said again, and he captured one of her excited nipples in his mouth. She cried out softly at the feeling, unable to answer as her mind went blank.

She’d missed this, she’d missed him. She felt close and overwhelmed just by his proximity, the fact that he was really there, in the flesh.

Hawke was unlacing her breeches as he ran his tongue along her stomach, and he pulled them down to her knees, not bothering to try to remove her boots to take the breeches off completely.

“Marry me,” he murmured, but he looked like he was directing the question between her legs. He spread them a little, enough to get at what he wanted, and ran his tongue along her slit.

She nearly screamed, whimpering his name as he took up a slow pace, his usual teasing rhythm to drive her crazy as he licked her excited pearl. The edges of her consciousness faded away, nothing in the world existed beyond him and this feeling.

_ Maker _ , she had missed him.

She was already at the edge, already about to lose herself at any moment. He stopped his tongue and murmured, “Marry me, Mara,” against her, his lips and hot breath brushing her clit as he spoke, and she fell apart.

“ _ Yes _ , Garrett, yes,” she cried out, and she could feel him smiling against her as he resumed his stroking with his tongue, intending to prolong it like delicious torture.

Mara shuddered, her whole body quaking as she came undone, repeating his name and her answer again and again. He finally stopped and sat back on his heels, working on her boots and pulling her breeches off at last. He stood and began to work on his armor, impatiently yanking at every piece’s fastenings before he threw them unceremoniously on the floor.

Once he was finally naked, Hawke hooked an arm under her hips and pulled her onto the bed with him all the way. He spread her legs and took up residence between them, thrusting into her as soon as he did. She cried out and wrapped her legs around him, biting her lip as she enjoyed the feeling of him within her once more.

She felt like she was home.

She was whole, now that he was inside her.

He buried his face in her neck, taking deep breaths.

“Mara -” he murmured as he raised his face.

“Garrett -”

“I love you -”

“I love you -”

They said it at the same time, locking eyes with one another.

He braced himself above her and finally started moving, thrusting deeply, slowly. He never took his eyes off her face.

“I love you,” he said again, the sparkling in his eyes intensifying.

“I love you,” she moaned, her hands grasping his back and trying to pull him down to her.

He obligingly pressed himself against her chest and eagerly searched out her lips. He suffocated her with his intensity, his mouth moving greedily and hungrily against hers until she felt devoured. Every nerve in her body was reacting to him, settling into fiery overdrive as he overwhelmed each and every one of her senses.

All she could smell was his heat, the way that he always smelled like the fire magic he preferred.

All she could taste was him, eager and salty as his tongue danced with hers.

All she could see were stars scattered in the blackness on the back of her eyelids as she felt herself pushed to the brink again, nearly ready for release.

All she could hear was the sound of wet flesh as he moved within her, the sound of his heavy breaths mingling with hers against their passionate kiss.

All she could feel was him, every inch of him inside her and on top of her, flush against her as their sweaty bodies moved in unison.

He twisted a hand into her hair, his other grabbed hers and held it above her head as he interlaced their fingers. It happened at the same time, joined so closely together as though they were the same being that they reacted in harmony. She sobbed his name as she felt her whole body tremble, her hips thrusting desperately in her ecstasy as he went deep, his hot seed filling her.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he whispered as they came, and she sobbed, feeling tears slide down her cheeks, overwhelmed with joy.

 

* * *

“Do you really mean it?” she asked.

Hawke was lying on his back, Mara resting her head on his shoulder, their limbs tangled together as he held her close against him.

“Of course,” he murmured and kissed her on her forehead. “Did you really mean your answer, or were you just coming?”

She giggled, tempted to tease him and tell him she had just been in the throes of passion. “I really meant it.”

“Good, for a moment I was worried I went about getting your answer the wrong way,” he chuckled.

Her joy was suddenly tinged with renewed melancholy. “Garrett, I…I’m sorry I made you wait, I -”

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m sorry I left you,” he squeezed her to him more tightly.

“It’s just, with me being the Inquisitor, I’m…worried. What if something happens to me?” She raised her gaze to peer into his face.

He frowned. “I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re mine, Mara. I’m not leaving again. You’re the Inquisitor, yes – but luckily you have a Champion. I’ll stay here, with you. I’ll help you save Thedas.”

She smiled. He made it sound so easy. “I’d…like that, actually.”

“Of course you would. It means we get to spend every night and day together, and I’m sure we’ll find something to do with our time, some way to work off all the stress you’re facing.” His eyes were twinkling mischievously again.

“I just don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to leave you alone,” she sighed. “If something happens to me -”

“It won’t happen,” his voice sounded so determined. He had taken on the look of The Champion, the fierce resolve that had gotten him through so much. “We’ll save Thedas and then retire, run off together to some house away from everyone else so I can fuck you senseless without interruption. We won’t do anything but make babies -”

“Do you want that?” she asked, the eagerness evident in her tone.

“I never thought I did,” he admitted. “But the idea of making and raising babies with you sounds perfect. I like the idea of keeping you pregnant, of filling a house with too many children and our love.”

She blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to fight the moisture threatening to spill onto her cheeks. “I think I like that idea, too. I…I almost thought I was, for a few days. I forgot the potion after the last time, but I wasn’t. I cried, for five days. I’d gotten it in my head that I wanted a little you, that maybe…but -”

“Is that why?” he peered down at her, shock obvious on his face. “Varric told me, he said you locked yourself away up here and wouldn’t come out.”

“It was everything that had happened, but that – somehow that was finally too much, after you left,” she confessed softly.

He pressed a kiss to her hair. “I promise you as many little me’s as you want when this is all over, so long as you promise me some of them are like you, too.”

“I promise,” she smiled against his chest. “So…the Champion of Kirkwall and the Inquisitor are going to get married,” she teased lightly.

“Tomorrow,” he answered her firmly.

“Tomorrow?” she raised her gaze again, frowning.

“Yes. I’m not waiting another day,” he looked down at her, his eyes full of his usual intensity. “You’re mine, Mara. I love you.”

She giggled, feeling too intensely to do anything but giggle with joy for several moments. “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're not getting to the end, don't worry. More will be on the way.


	21. Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Champion and the Inquisitor catch up after time apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're seriously all too kind and have put me in a really generous mood.
> 
> So here, enjoy some fluffy smut. Some smutty fluff? Fluff and smut galore, either way.
> 
> xx,  
> L

“Stop muffling your noise, pet,” Hawke panted, and he gave one side of her ass a powerful slap. “I want them to hear you –  _ fuck _ – I want everyone to know that I’m back, I want everyone to hear me fucking you again.”

Mara lifted her face from the pillow she’d buried it in, not to silence her cries but just in response to pure overwhelming sensation. She pushed herself up on her elbows and changed the angle of her hips, tilting them up and back so he could go deeper against her sweet spot.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he growled loudly when he felt the change. “Mmm, little minx, I missed this – I missed your tight, wet cunt around me. Listening to you moan my name – sweet  _ Maker _ , you’re perfect.”

She groaned, feeling close to coming apart and enjoying the sound of him praising her. “Garrett – oh, Garrett, I’m going to – please,  _ oh _ – harder, please.”

He tightened one hand on her hip to hold her steady as he reached with his other to touch her oversensitive clit. He quickened his pace, jerking harder into her as she begged and whimpered. The feeling of his finger on her pushed her over the edge and she positively screamed as she found her release. He roared triumphantly and thrust deep as he came within her, thrusting his way through it until she almost thought she’d pass out from the intensity of his movements and their shared ecstasy.

He finally stopped and rested his hands on her ass, massaging it lightly as he tried to catch his breath. “Mara – fuck, that was five, wasn’t it? That was your third that time, right?”

She giggled and buried her face back in the pillow. “That one alone felt like three all at once,” she mumbled, her voice muffled. “Maker, I missed you and your obsession with counting my orgasms.”

He finally pulled himself from within her, his seed spilling down the back of her thighs as he chuckled. “I need to keep track for all of the statues,” he teased as he collapsed on the bed beside her, lying on his back with his eyes closed. “I spent the whole time I was away dreaming of all the things I’d do to you, all the ways I’d make you come…we’re reaching ten tonight.”

“Is that so?” she turned her face on the pillow to look at him. “Don’t want to save that for our wedding night?”

He laughed breathlessly. “You make a fair point, maybe that should be saved for a special occasion.”

“That sounds so odd to say,” she mused softly. “Our wedding night.”

He turned his face to look at her, a grin on his face. “Tomorrow night, pet. Tomorrow night you’ll be Lady Hawke.”

“You’ll be Lord Trevelyan,” she countered.

“Lady Champion.”

“Lord Inquisitor.”

“What’s your full name, love?” he frowned at her a little.

“Mara Rose Trevelyan,” she answered.

“Mara Rose Trevelyan Hawke…I like the sound of that,” he mused playfully.

“What about you?”

“Garrett Malcolm Hawke.”

“You forgot Trevelyan,” she teased.

“Hmm, should it go before or after? I can’t decide which I like better,” he chuckled.

She reached over with a hand and placed it on his chest, lightly fingering the bit of black hair that covered it. He placed one of his hands of top of hers, caressing it with his thumb.

“You sounded like you liked Jader,” she said after several long moments of peaceful silence.

“It certainly had its charm,” he replied. “You would have liked the markets. The bookshop and the blacksmith, too. Everything there felt like the best of both Ferelden and Orlais, it was…quaint.”

“Let’s go back sometime,” she suggested. “I’d like to meet Tommas, and the blacksmith you were working with. I hope he kept some of your early work, I’d love to see it.”

He laughed. “Hopefully he melted it all down, it was useless. I may have lied in my last letter, I’m actually shit as a smith. Opening a smithy would be a horrible idea for us.”

“You know, we’re both nobles,” she suddenly mused, furrowing her brow. “We’re actually a good match for each other. I doubt even my mother could object to it, although she may be a little taken aback by the twelve year age gap. And the whole apostate bit.”

He raised his eyebrows thoughtfully. “I didn’t even think about any of that. I only have my uncle Gamlen left and he’s rubbish. I forgot you actually have a family.” Hawke rolled to face her finally, bending an elbow beneath where his head lay on the pillow. He tenderly brushed some of the hairs off her face. “Should I have asked your father’s permission? Asked for a dowry? Been upset that you weren’t a virgin?”

Mara laughed until she was breathless. “You know, I would have loved to see the look on my father’s face if you’d asked him permission,” she told him, struggling to speak through her mirth. “He’d wonder if you were a bit touched in the head, thinking that I wait for anyone’s permission to do anything.”

He smiled at her. “So you really were always this wild? I’m glad to hear I haven’t ruined you.”

“You’ve ruined me, certainly,” she giggled. “You’ve made it so that I can’t go a few hours – no, minutes without craving your cock. But yes, otherwise, I’ve always been this wild.”

He pulled her hand to his lips and pressed kisses to her knuckles. “I’d like to meet your family when this is all over,” he told her. “And attend a ball, like you suggested. And go to Jader. And raise some babies to be just as wild as their parents. I want to do all of that and more.”

She gave him a watery smile. “Stop you’ll make me cry again,” she chided. “Can I ask something more serious?”

“You can ask me anything,” he continued pressing kisses to her knuckles.

“You said Isabela was in Jader,” she began, and felt her heart racing a little with nervousness. But she had to know; not knowing would feel worse. “What happened?”

He sighed a little. “She showed up out of the blue, I guess she’d pulled in to port for a while. I didn’t even ask why she was there, actually,” he was still holding her hand while he spoke. “She tried to pick up with me like nothing had happened…but I told her we were through. That we’d been through for five years.”

“Was that it?” she asked.

“She kept trying. She – she stole your last letter, the last one I received – the long one, where you described touching yourself for me,” he shook his head a little. “She read some of it and I got angry, so I burnt it in her hand. We fought – I told her again that it was over for good.”

“She read my letter? That was rude, it was incredibly personal,” Mara chuckled.

He raised his eyebrows a little at her, as though surprised by her easy reaction. “She snuck into my room that night. She tried to get me to fuck her.” He sounded like it was painful to admit, his words hurried as if he thought saying it faster would make it easier to admit.

“And?” she prompted softly.

“I told her I love you. And I made her leave.”

“Is that when you left?”

“I left in the morning, I decided I was done being a coward. I know you wanted me to wait for you to decide, but I knew what I wanted, and I knew what I had to do, that it was time to claim what was mine.” He pressed more kisses to her fingers.

She thought for a long moment, watching him press her knuckles to his lips, feeling his beard tickle her skin.

“Are you -” he furrowed his brow, looking concerned at how long it was taking her to respond.

“I can’t decide if I should send Isabela some flowers as a thank you or if I should send an assassin,” she giggled.

“As a thank you? For what?” his scowl deepened.

“If she hadn’t tried to get you to fuck her, you maybe wouldn’t have come to Skyhold. We would have both waited to act on our feelings forever,” she shrugged. “I would have kept doubting, questioning whether or not I can hope for a future. And you would have kept your word to prove to me that you could, and waited forever while I continued to be an idiot.”

“I suppose that’s one way to look at it,” he agreed slowly.

“Instead she snuck into your room and you came running here to me, and asked me to marry you,” she smiled at him. After a moment she frowned a little. “Maybe an assassin holding flowers - that could work, happy medium between the two. I still don’t like the idea of her sneaking into your room.”

He laughed and rolled toward her to press himself on to her back. He pushed her hair aside and began leaving kisses on every inch of her neck and shoulder he could reach. “It was no contest, pet,” he murmured. “I love you.”

“Mmm, I love you too,” she sighed as he spread her legs with his knees.

“We don’t have to reach ten, you know,” he whispered as he nibbled her ear. “But we could always tie our old record.”

He slid inside her easily and she moaned. “That sounds excellent, Lord Trevelyan.”

“Remember to be loud, Lady Hawke,” he purred, and he started slowly thrusting into her.

Everything else faded away until nothing existed beyond the feeling of him moving within her.


	22. A Few Favors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Champion makes a few requests, and the Inquisitor receives an offer of help from some friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know you all tease me about how cruel I can be, but I'd like to admit that I'm not nearly as cruel as I originally intended to be. When I first thought about how to expand this from a one shot to a full work, Mara and Garrett weren't going to be reunited until after the events of Trespasser. Instead, you're all going to be treated to what will essentially be "The Tale of the Champion and The Inquisitor as They Save Thedas" before they get their happy ending.  
> No spoilers, just saying we've still got a ways to go. Mostly because this is so damn fun to write. <3
> 
> xx,  
> L

Hawke slowly opened his eyes, aware of the scent of orange and vanilla, of the warm body pressed close against the front of him. Sunlight was beginning to filter in through the balcony doors, illuminating the bed with its warm light. He looked down at the top of Mara’s head, enjoying the way the sunlight brought out golden tones in her soft brown hair until it almost looked like it was woven with bits of gold thread. He loved her hair. The silky waves fell to her waist, and except for battle she always left it free and wild to hang down her back. It was so much a part of her, and he mused over how many mornings he had lain and run his fingers through it. Since the first morning, he realized suddenly, recalling how he had awoken before her and taken time to study her features as she lay sleeping beside him.

He always woke up before she did, his restlessness causing him to open his eyes at the first ray of the sun. She loved to sleep, he knew, and he loved to lay with her sleeping in his arms, letting her have just a bit more sleep before he woke her to start their day together. He realized as he watched her that after today, he’d spend all of his mornings this way, finger-combing her hair and observing her sleep, listening to the sound of her deep breathing. For the first time that he could remember, he felt pure contentment, no longer troubled by the darkness that had overshadowed his life for so long. He couldn’t recall a time he hadn’t worried, hadn’t felt anger or pain.

With a broad grin at his own private musings, he leaned down and placed a kiss on her shoulder before he carefully eased himself out from the bed, trying not to wake her. As much as he wanted to wake her up and make love to her, he realized he had things to take care of for the day’s happy event. Instead he’d let her sleep while he snuck out to begin his day. Unfortunately she stirred, and rolled over to try to search him out. She flinched at the sunlight across her face and placed a hand on her brow to shield her eyes.

“Good morning, love,” he greeted her with a smirk.

“Where are you off to?” she murmured sleepily, still trying to adjust her eyes to the light as she fluttered her eyelashes.

“I have a few things to do,” he began to pull his breeches on. “Someone needs to find us a Revered Mother, after all.”

“You won’t have to look far, you can just ask Mother Giselle,” she yawned and stretched, and he was momentarily distracted by the sight of her perfect breasts as she did. Suddenly he wanted to get back in the bed and delay his business.

He shook his head and turned away from the tantalizing sight of her. “Any idea where I might find her?”

“The Chantry off the gardens, usually,” she rolled to her side and propped herself on an elbow as she watched him dress.

“Excellent,” he grinned at her. “I was thinking – Varric should be there, too, seeing as he played such a pivotal role as our matchmaker.”

She giggled. “I agree, it’s only fair.”

“Anyone else, pet?”

“Hmm…” she pursed her lips a little as she thought. “No, I think just Varric. I’d like it as small as possible, I never was one for weddings.”

He chuckled. “Small it is,” he agreed. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. “I’ll see you later, little minx.”

She bit her lip as though trying to suppress the wide smile spreading across her face. “Yes, later.”

Hawke straightened and turned to depart the room, again having to fight the urge to climb back into bed with her. Business first, he told himself.

He headed to the kitchens and grabbed a quick breakfast, then wandered to find Varric in his usual place beside the fire.

“Hawke!” his friend greeted him, surprise evident on his face. “When did you get here?”

“Yesterday,” he answered as he took the other seat in front of the fire. “I’m sorry I would have joined you for a drink last night but I was preoccupied.”

Varric chuckled. “So I take it you two have made up?”

“Better than that,” Hawke smiled, delighting in the shock he was about to deliver to his best friend. “You should congratulate me, Varric. It is my wedding day, after all.”

Varric’s reaction was priceless, and Hawke wished there was some way to capture it so he could show Mara. He hadn’t known the dwarf’s jaw could drop so far. “Well I’ll be damned, Hawke. Finally going to let someone make an honest man out of you.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Hawke laughed, and took Varric’s outstretched hand and grasped it firmly.

“You said today’s the day? Not wasting any time, I see,” his friend mused.

“No, not even a little bit,” he agreed. “But I wanted to make sure you’d be there. You’re the reason for all of this, after all.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Varric beamed. “Damn, Hawke…Never thought I’d see the day. I’m happy for you. I didn’t think, after everything…” the dwarf trailed off and shook his head, chortling to himself at his thoughts.

“Well, I had to face my past while I hid out in Jader,” Hawke shrugged. “Isabela showed up, and it was the best thing that could have happened.”

Varric’s eyebrows rose as high as they could. “Andraste’s tits, Hawke, that must have been -”

“Surprisingly helpful,” Hawke interjected.

“Apparently so,” his friend laughed.

“I have a favor to ask – do you still know where Bodahn ended up? I wasn’t sure if he had moved on since the last time he wrote me.”

“Yeah, I know where he is,” Varric nodded.

“Can I borrow your quill and some parchment, then?” Hawke sat up and cleared a space on the table between them so he could compose his letter.

When he was finished sealing his letter and had handed it over to Varric to send, he walked to the gardens to find the Revered Mother Mara had told him about. He strolled through the small courtyard, looking around until he found her speaking with a young recruit. He waited patiently for their conversation to end before he approached.

“Mother Giselle?” he greeted.

“Yes,” she looked him over carefully. “You are the Champion, are you not?”

“I am, yes,” he nodded.

“I see,” she pursed her lips. “And how may I help you, my child?”

“I have a favor to ask, for myself and for the Inquisitor.”

“The Inquisitor? What is the favor?”

“We’d like for you to perform our marriage ceremony, if you would,” Hawke gave her his most charming smile as he watched the shock render her speechless.

“Your – Oh,” she finally stammered. “I would be honored. When -”

“This evening, if you could,” he kept smiling as he watched her fall silent once more.

Finally she nodded and then shook her head, making her look like she was making an odd jerky circle with it. “I had no idea, but yes, it would be an honor.”

“Excellent!” Hawke clapped his hands and rubbed them together. He finished sorting out the particulars with the Revered Mother and then meandered back through the courtyard.

“Hawke!” a deep voice rang out, and he turned to see the Commander halted in his tracks, staring at him. “What are you – when did you -”

“Mara, and yesterday,” Hawke answered the unfinished questions.

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” Cullen admitted as he closed the distance between them.

“Yes, I’m sure you’re very disappointed,” Hawke drawled with a smirk.

“So are you – are you staying, or -”

“Actually yes, I realize I should make it official with you,” Hawke furrowed his brow in playful thoughtfulness. “I’m joining your Inquisition. Do I need to swear any vows, or make any pledges, or -”

“You’re joking,” the Commander deadpanned.

“I’m absolutely not,” Hawke replied firmly. “I’ve already pledged myself to your Inquisitor - is that enough, or do I need to do more to show my loyalty?”

Cullen stared at him for a moment, as though carefully considering him. “No, there’s no vows or anything.”

“Oh good, swearing vows once today will be enough for me, I think,” Hawke quipped.

The other man’s brows lowered in a deep frown. “What do you mean?”

“Marriage vows,” Hawke answered, and his smirk widened as he watched the shock on Cullen’s face.

“I suppose – congratulations,” the Commander finally said, and held out his hand.

“Thank you,” Hawke took his hand firmly in his. “But yes, I’ll be staying until this is all over, so my services are at your disposal. Or rather, at your Inquisitor’s disposal.”

“We certainly welcome the aid,” Cullen cleared his throat. “Well, I should…get back to it.” He jerked his head in farewell and continued on his way.

Hawke couldn’t help chuckling to himself as he continued on his as well.

 

* * *

 

 Mara ran her hands over her top, trying to smooth it out. She was staring at herself in the full length mirror in her room, frowning.

She didn’t own any dresses. She’d worn a formal uniform at the Winter Palace, and all she had otherwise was her Skyhold attire and her armor. She thought it would be a little funny to get married in her armor, but had instead decided on what she normally wore around Skyhold.

She had lounged in her bath, using the vial of oil to scent the water like she always did. The oil had been a purchase when she went to Val Royeaux, because she’d found herself missing a few luxuries of home and smelling nice instead of like dried blood. The vial was running low, though, and she wondered if she could convince someone to requisition more for her.

Her hair was nearly dry, and she didn’t even consider braiding it or putting it up. She could tell he seemed to love her hair from the way she always caught him playing with it, and she knew that on her wedding day of all days she wanted to feel and look like herself. So her hair was hanging loose down her back, untamed as always and smelling of her bath oils.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and she turned, expecting to see him.

“Leliana, Josephine,” she greeted with a frown when she saw the two women reach her room. “How can I help you?”

“A little birdie told us today might be a special day,” Leliana smiled, her eyes flashing with an unusual cheeriness. Normally she looked so serious; it was interesting to see her look so playful.

“Oh?” Mara raised an eyebrow.

“Please, Inquisitor, I’m your  _ spymaster _ ,” the Orlesian giggled. Mara’s eyebrows rose higher on her forehead at the carefree sound, never having heard it before from the Nightingale.

“But we realized you may be missing a few things, and wanted to help you out,” Josephine chimed in, her face illuminated with a wide smile.

“Like what?” Mara crossed her arms.

“Well, we can’t let you marry the Champion wearing  _ that _ ,” Josephine scoffed playfully.

Mara looked down at her outfit. “It’s not so bad, I don’t think it really matters -”

Leliana giggled again. “Come along, Inquisitor,” she motioned with her hand for Mara to come with them. With a small frown, Mara crossed her room and followed her friends down the stairs.


	23. Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything goes according to plan.

“Nooo, Josie, the color is all wrong on that one,” Leliana groaned.

“I think it would look nice with her skin,” Josephine protested. She held the pale green dress up to Mara’s face. “Don’t you?”

“Green’s not really my color,” Mara suggested.

Josephine shrugged and set the dress aside so she could move on to the next one. They were in Josephine’s quarters, and Mara was surprised by the collection of dresses that were in the wardrobe before them. And somehow, more kept arriving. Vivienne had helpfully brought in a few of her own, and Cassandra had even brought a set of her old Chantry robes that could have been worked into a dress. They had been hastily set aside, however.

Sera was pouring herself wine in the corner while Vivienne and Cassandra accepted and began to search through another bundle of dresses from one of the Inquisition’s merchants. Most were robes, for the healers and mages, but they looked through everything to see what could possibly work. Wedding clothes weren’t really readily available at Skyhold, but everyone seemed quite keen to help her find something better suited than her normal clothes.

Mara was laughing at the commotion and bustling of her friends, feeling oddly giddy. It would have irritated her, the way that it reminded her of her mother and sisters getting ready for balls while she grumpily and reluctantly got into her own puffy and ruffled dress, dreaming of when she could get out of it. But instead, she realized that she was trying to get ready to marry  _ him _ , and that made everything that much more enjoyable.

“What we really need to think about are  _ shoes _ ,” Leliana purred, and Josephine rolled her eyes.

“I’m not sure what we have besides embroidered slippers, unfortunately,” the Ambassador sighed as she held a purple gown up to Mara, who scrunched her nose in distaste.

“Ooo, definitely  _ not _ that color with her skin,” Vivienne chimed in.

“I still think white,” Cassandra muttered.

“I still think this is all bollocks,” Sera laughed. “You should just marry him naked, that’s how he likes you best anyway, right?”

“You know, that’s not a bad idea -”

“Absolutely not,” Josephine scolded her, and they all laughed.

“Sera, stop hogging all of the wine,” Mara reached out with a hand, imploring the elf to pour her a goblet and hand it over. She gratefully sipped it as Leliana and Josephine picked up a few more dresses.

“What about this? The blue might be nice with her hair,” Leliana held a deep blue gown up to her cheek and reached for her hair. She pulled a handful of the golden brown waves over to show everyone else.

“That might work,” Josephine mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

“It’s a little dark for a wedding, don’t you think?” Vivienne asked.

“I think so,” Cassandra declared. Mara knew she still wanted white.

“That’s not too bad,” Mara shrugged. So far she liked it best, but she wasn’t quite sure about the embroidery on the silk of the dress. It was blue like his eyes, though, and the idea of that made the dress more appealing than the others.

“Wait, Josie – what’s this?” Leliana positively dove into the wardrobe, shuffling dresses aside before she pulled out what had caught her eye.

“Oh, yes – that’s perfect!” Josephine cried gleefully.

“I must say, I agree,” Vivienne purred, crossing her arms and nodding approvingly.

“That looks…beautiful,” Cassandra agreed, and she sounded like emotion had caught in her throat.

“Oy, even I have to say that looks like the one,” Sera chimed in and gulped down the rest of her wine.

“Well? What do you think?” Leliana asked, and she held the gown up for Mara to inspect.

“I -” she felt an odd emotion rise up in her chest. She hadn’t expected to be quite so affected by a simple piece of clothing. “I think you’re all right.”

Her friends cheered and clapped their hands in excitement.

“Now,  _ shoes _ ,” Leliana set the dress down and began going through the shoes piled in front of the wardrobe.

“What should we do with your hair, darling?” Vivienne approached and combed her fingers lightly through Mara’s hair as she considered it.

“Leave it down,” Mara insisted. “He – he likes my hair, I’d like to leave it down.”

“Mmm, yes I quite agree,” Vivienne continued softly fluffing Mara’s hair. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t do a  _ little _ something with it. I think I have just the thing.”

“Mara, here – try these on,” Leliana thrust a pair of shoes into her hands and Mara obliged. “Oh good they fit! What do you think?”

Mara stared down at the shoes and turned her feet this way and that so she could look at them. “They’re nice.”

“ _ Nice _ ? Mara, those are -” Leliana began, but Josephine laughed.

“Give it a rest, Leliana,” she teased.

There was a knock on the door, and Cassandra went to open it, trying to keep whoever was at the door from seeing into the room.

“Sorry to interrupt, ladies,” came Varric’s voice. “But I’ve been sent on an errand from the bridegroom.”

“He’s not running off, is he?” Mara called out teasingly so the dwarf could hear her.

She could hear Varric chuckling. “No, no, the opposite, actually. He won’t stop pacing, says he should have said this afternoon instead of this evening. I’ve been forcing him to drink some ale, trying to get him to calm down.”

“So what’s the errand?” Cassandra asked, still trying to block the view of the room.

“I’ve been sent to fetch m’lady’s scarf,” Varric replied.

“The scarf?” Mara frowned, confused. “Are you sure he isn’t running off, Varric?”

“Positive,” he answered loudly.

Mara was still frowning but decided not to argue. She reached into her top and pulled the scarf from the band over her breasts. Josephine and Leliana both giggled, and she shot them a glare. She walked over and passed it to Cassandra, who handed it to Varric.

“Thanks, kid,” Varric called out. “He said sunset, so finish up in there.”

Cassandra closed the door once more and all of her friends turned to look at her.

“Let’s get you ready, then,” Leliana declared, and she wiggled her eyebrows playfully.

 

* * *

 

 “Andraste’s ass, Hawke, just sit and have some more ale,” Varric groaned, putting his forehead in his hand in vexation at Hawke’s impatience.

Hawke threw himself onto the bar stool beside his friend and drained the rest of his tankard. He gestured for another before he asked, “Could you see her? Did she look excited?”

Varric stared at him, looking bewildered. “Who are you and what have you done with the Champion of Kirkwall?”

Hawke laughed as he accepted his refilled mug from the bartender. “He met the perfect woman and he’s sick of not being married to her.”

Varric shook his head. “I keep waiting to wake up, or find out that this is some story I made up come to life. I never  _ ever _ thought I’d see you like this.”

Hawke stared into his tankard for a moment, smiling to himself. “Could you see what she was wearing? Did she look -”

“Maker this is too much,” Varric gritted out and drained his own mug before gesturing for another.

“There he is, the man of the hour!” a voice called behind them, and Hawke turned to see a group of Mara’s companions standing behind them. It was Dorian who had spoken, but he was flanked by some of the others, the ones she traveled with and collected like strays. Iron Bull, Blackwall, Solas, even that strange boy Cole, and – he blanched when he saw it – Commander Cullen. They all approached and Iron Bull patted him forcefully on the back.

“Enjoying a last little bit of freedom?” the Qunari teased, and Hawke laughed.

“I’m not sure ‘enjoy’ is the right word,” he responded, and one by one the companions all shook his hand in congratulations.

“Oh, someone should make a toast,” Dorian suggested once they had all grabbed drinks, and he cleared his throat as if he was preparing to speak.

“To Hawke, one lucky, lucky son of a bitch – oh, sorry Leandra,” Varric toasted, and they all laughed.

“To Hawke and Mara, may they live happily ever after, so long as Thedas doesn’t get blown to shit,” Dorian chimed in.

“To Hawke and Mara, may they learn how to sound proof their damn room,” Iron Bull continued, and for a moment none of them could speak as they all laughed until their sides hurt.

“To Hawke and Mara, may they continue to inspire poets and bards to tell of their wonderful adventures – together!” Blackwall toasted with a wide smile.

“To Hawke and Mara, may they find joy together in all of the days to come,” Solas toasted solemnly.

“I’ll find joy in my days so long as I can keep fucking her like last night -” Cole began and Dorian spat out some of his ale and tried to hush him as the others all choked on their drinks.

“No,  _ no _ , Cole, we don’t need to hear his thoughts, please,” the Tevinter begged him.

Cullen cleared his throat, trying to be heard over the others’ laughter. “To Hawke and Mara, may the Maker see them through these difficult days to a beautiful future – together, always.” He raised his mug and locked eyes with Hawke, who returned the gesture and smiled slightly. Maybe Curly wasn’t so bad, after all.

“Oh, hey, getting close to sunset, we should go,” Varric said suddenly as he looked out the tavern window. “Come on, everybody.”

They all set their mugs down and headed to the tavern door, Hawke making sure he grabbed the scarf off the bar top.

 

* * *

 

 Hawke was standing nervously beside the Revered Mother, with Varric on the other side of him. He wasn’t nervous for the ceremony, but rather the surprise he had pulled for Mara. He tugged a little at the leather vest he wore, fidgeting slightly as he hoped she wouldn’t be too angry with him.

But then his nervousness fled and his breath caught, because the doors into the garden opened, and he saw her silhouetted by the candlelight that lined the path to him.

Mara was wearing a dress, which in and of itself was enough to make his heart skip a beat.

It was light grey, the same shade as her eyes, the silk and satin reflecting the soft light of the courtyard the same way the pools of her eyes reflected the sun. It bared her shoulders, and the sleeves clung tightly to her slender arms and were embroidered in a swirling trail up her forearms with silver thread. A sash of deep blue was tied around her waist, the long ends of it hanging down with the smooth folds of the dress’ skirt. It swished as she moved, drawing his attention to her swaying hips.

She was holding a bouquet of what looked like herbs that had been picked from that very garden, but they were arranged as if they were beautiful wildflowers.

Her hair was loose, but she had a soft crown of the same herbs woven together and placed atop her head. He could tell someone had enchanted it for her, because it sparkled slightly in the light as though covered in crystals – and he realized they looked like ice crystals. Thin, dove grey ribbons were tied into her hair among the brown waves as if they were also silky strands of hair.

She hesitated for a moment, looking around with astonishment evident on her face. He could tell, though, that it wasn’t a displeased look at the surprise he had arranged for her.

The courtyard was full of members of the Inquisition, and all of her companions and friends were lining her walkway, smiling at her. He could see her take a deep breath, her smile faltered for just one moment, and if he weren’t wrong it looked a bit like her eyes were glistening in the candlelight.

She lifted her chin and walked slowly down the path toward him, holding his gaze the entire time she approached, a soft smile playing on her lips. She had never looked more radiant.

She stopped before him and he reached a hand out to her, which she took and let him lead her to stand facing him, Mother Giselle between them.

“We are gathered here in the eyes of the Maker, to witness the union of Garrett Hawke and Mara Trevelyan,” the Revered Mother began, but Hawke only half heard her.

He couldn’t take his eyes off Mara, and he smiled and softly whispered, “Hello, pet,” to her.

She giggled softly. “Hello, love.”

The Revered Mother continued her introductions, and then turned slightly to face Hawke. “Garrett,” she began, and Varric handed her the red silk scarf. “Take Mara’s hand in yours, and please repeat after me.”

Hawke took Mara’s hand in his, holding it up.

“I promise, to the Maker and Holy Andraste,” the Revered Mother began, and she shook out the scarf as he repeated her words. “To love this woman to the end of my days. To cherish her. To protect and support her. To always be her shelter and refuge, her strength, in good times and in bad, to the end of my days.”

Hawke repeated the words with a smile on his face, watching as Mara’s eyes filled with tears. The Revered Mother looped the scarf around their hands once as he recited his vows.

“Mara,” the Revered Mother continued after he had finished his words. “Please repeat after me.”

Mara gave him a watery smile and lightly cleared her throat to prepare to repeat her vows. She spoke softly, her voice wavering just the tiniest bit with emotion, as she repeated the Revered Mother’s words. Mother Giselle looped the scarf over their hands again, until they were bound together.

Again, Hawke’s mind wandered, only half-listening to the words being spoken after Mara had said her vows. They kept smiling at each other, and she kept giggling softly, her eyes still sparkling with unshed tears of joy.

“In the name of the Maker and the Holy Andraste, in the presence of these loving friends and witnesses, I now pronounce you man and wife,” the Revered Mother finished.

Hawke stepped forward instantly and captured Mara’s lips with his, tenderly stealing her breath and her smile as they pressed their lips together in loving promise.

The courtyard erupted in cheers, and they finally broke away from each other, laughing and smiling as they turned to face the crowd. Hawke held their bound hands up for all to see, and he looked down to see her smiling up at him.

So fiercely beautiful, looking like she’d never felt happier.

And he knew, neither had he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed literally the fluffiest thing I've ever ever written.


	24. Consummation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Champion and the Inquisitor make some declarations and celebrate their wedding.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” the crowded tavern began chanting.

Mara giggled as Hawke wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against his chest, pressing his lips against hers in a fierce, possessive kiss. He twisted his mouth against hers and his tongue slid inside to search for hers. She moaned, and the crowd around them laughed and cheered.

She pressed a hand to his chest and lightly pushed him back, feeling lightheaded under his passion. He was laughing, smirking knowingly down at her. Dorian passed her another goblet of wine as she laughed breathlessly, turning away from her husband.

Her husband.

She kept saying the word to herself, she kept calling him that instead of Garrett or love. It made her giddy, the feeling amplified by the wine she was drinking.

Everyone was crowded into the common room of the tavern, celebrating, passing tankards of ale and goblets of wine as they all cheered and made toasts to the happy couple. Her face hurt from smiling.

She had told him she wanted a small wedding, but she felt now like that had been a lie. Having everyone there, having her friends help her get ready – it had been more wonderful than she could have imagined. She looked around the crowd and saw everyone smiling, happy and carefree, as if they weren’t part of an Inquisition trying to save all of Thedas. Mara almost wondered a little if giving everyone a break, a chance to celebrate a happy occasion, had been part of why Hawke had invited them all. It seemed like the sort of thing he would do to help the Inquisition.

The congratulations pouring over them left Mara hardly any time to focus on any one particular moment of the revelry. She was overwhelmed by the bustle of activity, and only felt an intense joy as she was greeted by everyone around them.

“Speech! Speech!” someone started chanting, and others joined in. Iron Bull clapped Hawke on the back and tried to push him forward into the middle of the crowd.

Hawke was laughing and took a sip of his ale. He looked back at Mara and for a moment they just smiled at each other.

“You know, I’m not actually one for speeches,” Hawke began, and the crowd tried to quiet, but the silence was interspersed by laughter and whispers. “Even though I do so love the sound of my own voice.”

Several people laughed, Varric hardest of all.

”I will say this – thank you, everyone, for being here tonight, and witnessing my marriage to the most beautiful, most perfect woman in all of Thedas,” Hawke reached a hand out to Mara, and she took it as she felt tears well up in her eyes. “It means a lot to us. Now, if you’ll please excuse us, we have a marriage to consummate.”

The tavern erupted in cheers and laughter, several lewd jokes being called out, Iron Bull’s loudest of all. Mara giggled, feeling her cheeks flush. Hawke pulled her by the hand to lead her through the crowd, and several hands clapped him on the back as he passed. Mara smiled at her friends as she passed, and received several winks.

_ That man _ , she mused to herself.

* * *

  

“Here, wait,” Hawke stopped before the door and gently tugged her hand before she could open the portal.

He stooped suddenly and lifted her into his arms. He smiled down at her before he kicked open the door, causing her to throw her head back as she laughed.

“I’m supposed to carry you, right?” he teased as he mounted the stairs.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and playfully kicked her feet as he carried her into their room.

Their room.

Hawke stopped in the middle of the room and set her back on her feet, his eyes gleaming as he looked at her.

“Mara, you look beautiful,” he murmured.

She beamed at him. “I was hoping you’d like the dress. Though I’ll admit I had some help.”

“I love the dress on you,” he wiggled his eyebrows at her, “but I’ll love it on the floor more.”

Mara giggled and turned her back to him, moving her hair over her shoulder so he could help her with the buttons. She felt his fingers moving along the fastenings, slowly undoing them, occasionally stopping to stroke the naked skin of her back as he exposed it. Her skin prickled with goose bumps, her heart began beating at a faster pace.

Her husband.

Their room.

Their bed.

Hawke finished unbuttoning the back of her dress and began to slide it down her arms. She reached up and caught the red silk scarf as it fell out of the top of her dress; he’d placed it between her breasts after the ceremony, saying he wanted it back where it belonged. Now he saw her catch it and an interesting look came across his face.

He finished stripping her out of her dress and held out a hand. “Give me the scarf,” he murmured. She handed it over and quirked a brow at him. “Get on the bed, Mara.”

Mara bit her lip as it trembled in eager anticipation and sudden intense arousal. She was already hot and wet between her legs, she felt herself throb as she listened to him give her directions. She walked to the bed and crawled into the middle of it and reclined back on the pillows. Hawke was still smirking at her, his eyes twinkling as he began to take his clothes off quickly.

He was already hard, and once he was naked he crawled over her on the bed and stared down into her eyes. He was holding the scarf in one of his hands, and he took her wrists in one of his strong hands and bound them together with the silk, tying it tightly so she couldn’t get out of it. He laid her bound hands above her head.

“Tell me what you are, Mara,” he whispered, his voice husky.

“I’m your pet,” she answered, trying to keep her legs from trembling so much in her excitement.

He bent and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “What else are you?”

“Your little minx,” she breathed as he slid his hot mouth along her throat.

“What else?”

“Your depraved little whore,” she gasped as he ran his tongue over her pert nipples.

“What else?”

“Your love,” she moaned, her limbs quaking even more intensely as he brushed his lips down her abs, feeling as soft as a feather. She already felt close to the edge, just from anticipation of what he was might do.

“What else?” he asked, poised above her, using his hands to spread her legs.

“Your wife.”

“Say it again,” he ordered, and he ran his tongue once along her slit, slowly but without lingering, making her whimper.

“Your wife,” she moaned, and he repeated the action.

“Again.”

“Your wife,” she cried out, and he finally gave her a few slow strokes on her excited pearl, eagerly watching her face.

He stopped suddenly and she groaned, trying to roll her hips to silently beg him to keep going.

“What does that make you?” he whispered, his piercing sapphire eyes sparkling intensely.

“I’m yours,” she breathed, and he lowered his mouth once more and began stroking her with his tongue with such enthusiasm that she nearly screamed. “I’m yours, I’m yours,” she repeated unprompted, the tone of her voice pleading.

He slid two fingers into her and continued swirling his tongue around her clit, still watching her intently as he did. When she began to whimper and he could tell she was close, he stopped.

“No, wait -” she panted.

“Say my name,” his breath made her whole body jerk.

“Garrett,” she moaned.

“And what am I?”

“My husband.”

“What else?”

“You’re mine,” she sobbed as he finally placed his tongue on her once more. She immediately fell apart, her cries scattered with incoherent words that sounded like “husband” and “mine” and “yours.”

When she gave one last shudder and went limp, he pulled her hips to him and slid into her in one quick stroke.

“You’re mine,” he moaned and he started thrusting roughly into her. “Mine, my wife.”

She gasped at the sensation of him within her so soon after her orgasm, and tried to brace her legs so that she could respond to the onslaught of his passion.

“Mara Hawke,” he groaned, one hand grasping one of her bouncing breasts and caressing it eagerly. “My Mara, my pet, my little minx – my wife.”

She was twisting her hands where they were bound, wishing she could touch him, or touch herself, or pull him down on top of her, wanting his hot weight and his lips. Each of his thrusts made her respond with a desperate cry, already close to coming undone again as she heard his loud declarations.

“Garrett Trevelyan,” she responded teasingly, but whimpered when he answered her words with a powerful, deep thrust.

He chuckled and smirked down at her, noticing how she was struggling against the scarf that bound her wrists. His eyes gleamed at the sight, and he began thrusting into her more intensely.

“Garrett, Garrett – please, I’m close, please touch me -”

“Say it again.”

“I’m your wife, I’m yours, forever – I love you.”

He placed a finger on her excited pearl and she came almost instantly with a scream, and she felt him go deep with a loud groan, releasing himself at the same moment. He finished with a few languid thrusts, his eyes shut tight, his brow furrowed as the corner of his mouth twisted up in a smirk. She loved that look, she mused to herself as she tried to catch her breath, trying to come down from her powerful release.

Hawke collapsed on top of her, still resting inside of her, and twisted his mouth against hers. “Mmm, little minx,” he murmured. “Marriage looks good on you.”


	25. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Champion and the Inquisitor set a new record.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some light fluff and smut to bridge the gap to continuing the story. Need to get back to saving Thedas eventually.
> 
> xx,  
> L

“Garrett, the sun’s almost up, I bet,” Mara giggled, and pressed her hands against his chest lightly. He kept leaning forward, trying to capture her lips with his, but she was tilting her head back, trying to pull away with a smile. “You do know what our vows meant, right? The rest of our lives, not just tonight.”

“Oh come now, pet,” he purred and continued to try to pull her closer to him. “We had a record to beat, remember?”

She kept playfully pushing against him, turning her head into the pillow. “And I also have a war council in the morning – or probably just a few hours from now, at this point.”

“They’ll give you the day off -”

“No, we’re meeting about the red Templars, we have important business -”

“I can’t get enough of you, wife,” he murmured and slid his mouth down the column of her throat. “Wife, wife, wife,” he repeated against the warm skin of her neck, drinking in the scent of orange and vanilla.

“I hadn’t noticed,” she replied breathlessly. She was still lightheartedly pushing him back, but he could tell she was fighting the urge to roll them from their sides so one of them could be on top. “Husband.”

“Wife.”

“Garrett Trevelyan.”

“Mara Hawke.”

The trickle of her carefree laughter was music to his ears. But she was still holding him back with her hands, and he finally gave an exaggerated sigh. “You’re really serious, aren’t you?”

“Please, I need rest. Tying our record was  _ amazing _ , love, but you know how grumpy I get in the mornings,” she said.

“I can make it better, so that you’re not grumpy in the morning, how does that sound?” he smirked at her, his voice dripping with suggestion.

“You’re a lecher,” she declared teasingly. “You’re a dirty old lecher.”

“I thought you knew this about me when you agreed to marry me,” he chuckled. “And I’m not  _ that _ old.”

She just giggled and shook her head, clearly exasperated.

“Fine, m’lady Hawke, I’ll let you get some sleep so you can save the world,” he rolled onto his back and pulled her tight to his side. “You’ll be done saving it by tomorrow evening, right? Then we can get to making those babies we talked about?”

She continued to giggle and shook her head a little. “Now that you’re here, maybe I can achieve it by next week – if you help me.”

“Deal.”

 

* * *

 

 “Garrett,” a soft voice whispered against his ear.

“Garrett, love – wake up,” he felt lips brush his.

“Darling I want you,  _ mmm _ , love – wake up,” he felt a hand stroking his length. He was hard, he felt it throb in response to her touch.

“Mmm, you’re so hard already – so  _ big _ ,” the hand pumped him faster as the voice positively purred against his lips.

He opened his eyes, a wide grin coming across his face. “I thought you were sleepy, little minx,” he murmured.

“Mmm I was, but then I woke up  _ so _ wet, realizing that I’m married – I’m someone’s wife – but better yet, I’m  _ your _ wife.” Her eyes were positively twinkling, she bit her lip as she looked down at him.

_ Fuck, what a woman _ , he thought as she moved her leg over him so that she was straddling him. She was still looking at him so seductively, her grey eyes smoky with desire as she positioned herself over him. She paused before sliding down on him, teasing him with the proximity of her wetness but not taking him into her.

“Little minx -” he began.

“You wanted to beat our record, right?” she purred, and she took his tip into her, shallowly thrusting herself down onto him.

He groaned. “Yes, pet.” He gripped her hips but didn’t try to pull her onto him. He was eager to let her fulfill whatever desire had awoken her after how much she had said she needed her sleep.

Mara smiled and slowly slid herself on his length until she had covered all of him. Her eyelashes fluttered down as she moaned softly at the feeling, looking positively wanton in her delight. She rolled and rocked her hips, moving slowly as she pressed with her hands against his chest, her nails digging into his skin as she braced herself. She was taking him as deep into her as she could, rolling her hips, and then slowly raising herself until he almost fell out before she repeated her actions. He was trying not to shut his eyes at all so he didn’t miss the arousing sight of her using him for her own pleasure.

She continued moving above him, angling and thrusting her hips however she wanted until he could tell from the way she was moaning that she was close. “Garrett,” she whimpered, “I’m going to come – oh, love, are you close? I want you to – with me –  _ ohhh _ .” She was biting her lip, looking like she was struggling to speak as she rocked herself against him.

He smirked and tightened his grip on her hips and tilted her angle just a bit. If he were honest with himself, he was almost always close just being near her. “Little minx, I want to see you fall apart – come for me,  _ wife _ .”

She let out a few more whimpers, and as he felt her clenching around him, she let out a sob at the intensity, “ _ Ten _ !”

He was only a fraction of a moment behind her, coming as he watched her throw her head back, her long waves cascading down her back as her rhythm became as erratic as her cries. When she finished she collapsed on his chest, breathing heavily, seemingly unable to move.

Hawke chuckled a little, running his fingers through her hair as he savored the feeling of her around him and on top of him. “Good dreams, pet?” he breathed after a few moments spent trying to regain his senses.

“The best,” she giggled softly. “Did you sneak into the Fade and fuck me, or cast some spell on me? I woke up feeling positively wild with need for you.”

“No, but now that you mention it I should try that sometime,” he teased.

Mara laughed, and he felt her inner walls tighten around his softening cock. It made him want to go for another, but he could tell how high the sun was as it filtered in the balcony doors. He stroked her hair off her face. “When is your war council?”

She groaned. “Soon. I don’t think the Commander sleeps at all, he always calls them so early.”

Hawke pressed his lips to her forehead. “Well just think about it – you said we could save the world in a week, right? So just a few more early mornings in your future.”

She finally pushed herself off of him as she giggled at his teasing, and stretched before she bounded out of bed. “I probably need a bath, Maker knows I shouldn’t head into the War Room smelling of so much sex.”

“No, no, I say go as you are. You smell sinfully delicious, pet,” he told her as he watched her move naked around the room. She was slender but muscular; all of her work training with her daggers and fighting to save Thedas had sculpted her into a magnificent vision. Hawke eagerly drank in the sight of her perky round breasts as she searched for her clothes.

“What are you going to do today?” she asked when she finally found her breeches.

“I need to spend some time training, if I’m going to go into battle with you,” he sighed. “I got positively lazy in Jader.”

“Lazy?” she scoffed playfully. “You sounded like you spent hardly any time  _ not _ doing something.”

“Still though, the Inquisitor needs her Champion at peak performance to save Thedas,” he mused.

“Yes, she does,” she agreed, and she gave him a soft look as she fastened the buttons of her top. “Going back out to save Thedas doesn’t sound so horrible knowing that I’ll have you with me, now.”

“You’ll always have me,” he assured her.

She finished lacing her boots and approached where he lay on the bed. “I better,” she said firmly, and pressed a deep kiss to his lips before she smiled. “I’ll find you after the war council.”

Hawke watched her slim figure as she turned to leave their quarters, marveling at the sight of her hips swaying as she walked away from him.

 

* * *

 

 “Oh Maker – excuuuuuuse me,” Mara covered her mouth, stifling the large yawn that had interrupted her question to the Commander. “Sorry, I didn’t get much -”

“Don’t say it,” Cullen gritted out quietly, and Leliana and Josephine burst out laughing. Mara chuckled a little as well and didn’t finish her statement.

She was exhausted, her mind working much slower than normal as she tried to listen to their reports about the Red Templars and pursuing Samson’s trail. It was important, though, and she had to refocus her mind and clear the cobwebs. She tried not to think back to how she had spent the night, even though it was all her mind wanted to fixate on.

_ Maker _ was her husband phenomenal.

She smiled suddenly as she thought the word  _ husband _ , and she had to clear her throat and shake herself again. Focus, she needed to focus.

“So, you were saying Commander,” she tried once more. “You think we have a good lead in Emprise du Lion?”

“Yes, there’s a heavy presence of Corypheus’ forces in the area, and I believe it would be beneficial if you went to follow the leads,” Cullen answered. He handed her a report and she looked it over while she stifled another yawn.

“I can leave tomorrow, if our forces will be ready,” she nodded as she skimmed the report.

“Yes, they could be,” he assured her.

“Excellent.”


	26. Equals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Champion and the Inquisitor get a little competitive.

When the war council was over, Mara headed out into the courtyard to see if she could find her husband training as he’d said he would be. Sure enough, he was there – training with Dorian and Iron Bull.

She was slightly surprised to see him sparring with the Qunari – especially since he seemed to have the upper hand. She walked to where Dorian stood watching, and stared slack-jawed as Hawke spun and evaded Bull’s attacks, hitting him with his staff as he dodged. He would twirl it after each successful hit and give a cry of triumph, and she felt a little flush spring into her cheeks when she realized it was similar to the noises he made in the bedroom.

Every one of his movements was graceful, and he moved like the predator she had frequently compared him to in her mind when she saw him moving naked through her room or above her. Bull seemed only slightly surprised at how well the apostate was fighting, and was laughing – obviously enjoying their sparring immensely.

“Finally a challenge!” the Qunari roared as Hawke hit him with his staff and he was knocked off balance, falling to one knee.

“Come on, Bull, the Arishok blocked that easily – keep trying!” he taunted. He was momentarily distracted when he saw Mara watching, and Bull took the opportunity and managed to knock him off balance in turn.

Mara giggled, and pressed a fist over her mouth to try to stifle the sound. Hawke shot her a glare and threw himself back into the sparring with more gusto. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was trying to show off.

The tale of his duel with the Arishok was one of her favorites – she had actually asked Varric to tell it to her several times when they sat around the fire when they camped, before she had actually met the Champion. Once Hawke had joined them in Crestwood, she had asked him to tell her his version, his memory of it. As much as he oozed bravado, when he told his own stories he was suddenly humble, letting Varric do most of the bragging for him. He had made it seem like his defeat of the Arishok was a closer call than Varric did, making it seem as if he’d thought he was going to be beaten at any moment. Varric, on the other hand, made it seem as if Hawke had easily triumphed, never faltering or coming close to defeat as he had thrown insulting, witty quips at his opponent.

As she watched Hawke spar with her Qunari bodyguard, she actually felt like maybe Varric’s version was closer to the truth. Her husband moved with a natural grace, a quickness that she could tell he had worked to hone and perfect. The result of his hard work was obvious, and she suddenly realized how he stayed so muscular. She had never seen a mage who fought the way he did, and she realized a good portion of it had to come from being an apostate. He must have trained himself to blend, using his staff as a regular weapon as well as a magical one so that he could pass without giving away his status as a mage.

Hawke easily bested Iron Bull in the sparring, and Mara stood staring with her eyebrows raised as high as they could go. He was certainly extraordinarily impressive.

“What about you, Dorian?” Hawke proposed as he shook the laughing Qunari’s hand in a show of good sportsmanship.

“No, thank you – I bruise easily, and don’t feel like being set on fire at the moment,” the Tevinter drawled.

“I’ll have a go,” Mara chimed in, and Hawke turned his gaze to hers and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. She giggled.

“All right, m’lady Hawke,” he agreed, and he twirled his staff while she grabbed two light practice swords.

Mara spun the swords in her hands, trying to loosen up, shaking out her shoulders and rolling her slightly stiff neck. She felt a little sore from how much activity they had had in bed together the last few days, and she tried to ease the stiffness before they began to spar. “Don’t go easy on me just because I’m your wife,” she teased him. “I want to see if I can best the Champion.”

Hawke laughed. “I think you’ve already bested me, pet, but all right. Fair and square – let’s see who wins.”

Beside them she saw Dorian and Iron Bull shaking hands as if making a wager. She smirked, wondering which one was going to bet on her; she had a feeling it was probably Dorian.

They had fought beside each other, but never against one another. Hawke’s speed was certainly admirable, but Mara was small and limber and was able to quickly dodge and contort her body to evade his attacks. She danced around him, constantly positioning herself behind him and giving him a light tap with one of the wooden swords before he could spin to try to knock her off her feet with his staff. She jumped over it or bent back as it swung over her, easily evading his attempts.

His eyes were gleaming, looking positively thrilled at the challenge she was posing for him. As soon as he would manage to get her in his sights she was gone again, rolling or leaping aside so that he had to spin to find her. He started laughing, crying out in playful frustration as he tried to get in his attacks. She was giggling, the sound trailing behind her as she moved in a blur.

“Are you just going to dance around me, little minx, or are you going to try to take me down?” he finally quipped.

His question was met with a foot to his rear, lightly pushing him until he almost fell. He laughed and turned, sweeping with his staff but she jumped over it. She gave him a wicked grin. He quickly twirled his staff to swipe at her again, finally trying to catch her while she was moving to dance behind him once more, and he managed to catch her behind her knee. She gave a small cry and lost balance, and he took advantage and swiped with his staff again.

She blocked his staff with both practice swords, and gave him another grin as she spun them and knocked him off balance with the movement. He began to topple, and she swept her leg under his stumbling feet. He fell in her direction, though, and caught her with him, rolling until he was atop her, and lifted his staff to her shoulders and pinned her down.

“Looks like I won, pet,” he declared, his eyes sparkling as he looked down at her.

“Are you sure?” she asked, and she pressed the tips of both practice swords into his sides – he hadn’t managed to knock them out of her hands.

“A draw?” Dorian cried indignantly. “Come on, Mara, I put good money on you -”

“It wasn’t money, it was a -” Iron Bull began.

“She doesn’t need to know that,” Dorian interjected.

Hawke was still staring down at her, his eyes gleaming suggestively. He pressed his hips against where he rested, her legs wrapped around his thighs and spread on either side of him. He rubbed himself against her a bit and she realized what he was trying to imply; he was getting hard, excited from their attempts to best each other. She felt herself start to flush, heat beginning between her legs.

“We decided we’re leaving tomorrow for the Lion,” she murmured. “We should probably go pack, you know.”

He smirked, immediately picking up on her suggestion. He lifted himself from her and reached a hand down to help her up. She took it and set the practice swords back where she had found them.

“Is that it? No tiebreaker?” Dorian quipped as if thoroughly disappointed.

“Maybe another time, we need to pack for our journey,” Hawke replied smoothly as he and Mara headed to the stairs into the keep.

Dorian and Iron Bull were laughing behind them.

They raced through the Main Hall, trying to act casual as they passed the visiting dignitaries, Mara nodding her head to several of them in polite greeting. She and Hawke rushed through the door to their quarters and locked it behind them, and they raced up the stairs.

They didn’t even make it to the bed.

Hawke grabbed her as soon as they reached the top step and spun her to face him. He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around him, but he knelt and laid her down on the cold stone floor. They fumbled with the laces on each other’s breeches, twisting their mouths against one another as they tried to push their clothing aside to get at one another.

He didn’t even bother removing her breeches all the way, and they gathered around her knees, his own breeches pushed down just enough to free himself. He pushed her thighs back to her chest and slid his length inside her in one stroke.

They moaned in unison, and he smirked down at her as he began thrusting. It was hard and fast, desperate to release the tension their playful sparring had built up between them. Mara dug her fingernails into his hips, encouraging him to stay deep within her as she gave gasping cries, already so close she was sure she would lose herself at any moment. She hadn’t realized she’d found their sparring so arousing, but she knew now why she’d spent so long teasing him by dancing around him instead of getting close. He was so glorious, especially when he looked so powerful in the midst of battle; she’d been admiring him greatly as she watched him spar with Bull. And once she offered to spar with him, she’d spent most of the time watching him move, unable to tear her gaze from his muscles and his graceful movements. She’d wanted to prolong it, wanted to build this feeling up.

Just like with their sparring, just like with everything in their lives, their lovemaking was equal. Their tiebreaker ended in another loud, pleasurable draw.


	27. An Announcement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor realizes she needs to write a letter, and the Champion asks about her past.

“You know, I realized I should probably write to my parents,” Mara suddenly mused as she tightened the strings on her satchel.

“And tell them what? That you married a dashing stranger after only a few months’ intensely sexual courtship?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her as he folded one of his shirts. “Or that you married the Champion of Kirkwall? We could make it sound like an arranged match between two heroes, see how they take that.”

She giggled. “They’ll already be upset they missed the whole thing, I think the truth will be hard enough for them,” she sighed. “I think my mother may try to disinherit me.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I married you for your cunt and not your title,” he mused.

She threw a ball of rolled up stockings at him. “You ass,” she deadpanned.

He chuckled at her, and then suddenly stopped packing, staring at her seriously. It was an odd, sober change. She wondered at how unexpectedly it happened, seeing as he never took anything seriously. “I…love, they won’t – they won’t be upset that I’m a mage, will they?”

She stared at him for a moment, curious at this bit of insecurity that he was showing. She noticed too that he was calling her ‘love,’ like he was so serious he couldn’t tease by calling her ‘pet’ or ‘little minx’ like he normally did. As if he was reassuring himself that she  _ was _ his love, after his question, his concern. She had rarely seen him look like this; vulnerable, exposed – it reminded her of when he’d begged her for faithfulness. It made her want to wrap him up in kisses and a tight embrace.

Preferably naked, in their bed.

But honestly, she wasn’t certain how her family would feel.

There were plenty of things they could be upset about. That she was betrothed without them having their say. That she had gotten married without telling them. That he was twelve years her senior. That he was an apostate mage. That he was the Champion of Kirkwall. That he was one of the causes of the Mage Rebellion, the cause for Thedas’ current chaos. That she had always been so rebellious, and that they should have expected this from her.

That last one she could actually hear in her mother’s scolding voice.

At least he was actually a noble as well, so they weren’t uneven in that respect.

Though that was tempered by the fact that he was an  _ apostate _ nobleman.

But she watched him looking at her closely, apprehensively waiting for her answer. It was endearing, that he was worried. She knew he’d only realized the other night, before their wedding, that she actually had a family. The thing was, now that they were married – they were his family, too. He hadn’t had a family in years. They had all been stolen from him.

She was determined to make her family accept him, to make them take him in. He deserved a family, and their obsession about being nobility aside – her family was rather loving and accepting, and worth being around. He was her husband, and nothing was changing that. She would make them see it, make them take him in. He deserved it more than anyone.

“Honestly, love,” she gave him a bright smile. “I don’t give a damn what they say. You’re a part of the Trevelyan clan now – they’ll have to accept you whether they like it or not. But I think they will. I actually think my father will like you a great deal.”

He gave her a wide smile, different from his usual smirk. He looked relieved.

She finished packing and walked to her desk, pulling a leaf of fresh parchment to her as she dipped her quill in her ink bottle. Hawke sat watching her for a moment, and she gave him a soft smile then turned her stare to the blank parchment, trying to think how best to start her letter.

After a few moments, she decided to just write it as she wanted – to write it as she would tell them in person. But then she amended that idea, and addressed the letter to only her father, who would be more receptive to this approach.

 

> _ Father, _
> 
> _ I’m sorry I haven’t been able to write as often as I used to when I was away. This Inquisitor position certainly is time consuming, with all of Thedas relying on me. _
> 
> _ I had some news I wanted to share with you, hopefully before any town criers or gossips can get it back to you. If that’s not the case and you don’t hear it here first – I blame whichever raven I’m sending this with. It’s clearly their fault for flying so slow. _
> 
> _ You see, in the midst of everything going on – I fell in love. _
> 
> _ I met the Champion of Kirkwall, Garrett Hawke. He was helping the Inquisition; he came to help us save Thedas and we spent time together. _
> 
> _ And I knew as soon as I saw him, as soon as I spoke to him. He is the man I want to be with for the rest of my life. _
> 
> _ Fortunately for me, it seems those feelings weren’t one-sided. I know I should have waited to do things more properly – then again you know me, when have I ever done anything properly? _
> 
> _ We got married. We are married. _
> 
> _ With everything going on – well, life is too short to wait for etiquette, for tradition. I’m facing forces no one expected in this world, and if I can find happiness with the Champion of Kirkwall at my side, I’m going to take that opportunity. Maker knows if I’ll ever have another chance to find happiness with him, if I wait. So I decided not to wait. _
> 
> _ You know I was never one to sit and wait on my laurels for life to happen to me. _
> 
> _ Please find the words to apologize to Mother about this. I know she’ll probably have a fit. Should I have sent smelling salts with this? Money for a healer, seeing as it would be my fault you had to call one? _
> 
> _ I hope I haven’t upset you too terribly, and that you can find it in you to be happy for your little girl – she’s found someone just as untamed as she is to bring the nobility of Thedas to its knees. _
> 
> _ I’m beyond happy. I hope you can be, as well. _
> 
> _ Also yes, tell mother you can take this letter as a sign that I’m still alive and well. Maybe I’ll ask my ambassador to start sending you updates more regularly so you don’t have to worry about me. _
> 
> _    All my love to you and Mother (and I suppose my siblings, as well), _
> 
> _    Mara Trevelyan Hawke _

__

She reread the letter a few times, making sure it was sufficient. She wasn’t full of as much dread as she thought she would be. No matter their reaction, she was married to him. She wasn’t going to undo that, and they could either accept it or not. But she had a lot of hope that they would accept it.

Hawke had finished packing and came over to lean on her desk.

“Would you like to read it, love?” she asked, smiling brightly. “Your first introduction to my father, as it were.”

He smirked at her and took the letter, reading it over with the smirk widening on his face. “You were right, pet, this is how you’ve always been if this is the way you write to your father about something so serious.”

She giggled mischievously. “I wouldn’t lie to you about my past.”

“Is that so?” his eyes twinkled. “Then who were your former paramours? What lucky young lad got to pick your flower, and taste you first?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, amused by his teasingly poetic words. “You really want to know?”

“I can’t help it, I’m curious,” he admitted. “A high-born lady, by all means properly raised – who fucks like you do? I think I need to send one of those flower-bearing assassins you mentioned to all of them, as thanks before they die. The memory of fucking you is too much to let them live, but I’m grateful they got you to where you are today.”

She giggled, realizing his reason was a joke, but he was actually curious about her past. She sat back in the chair, thinking how best to tease him with the truth, so that it was lighthearted but honest.

“The first was at a ball,” she began. “One of m’lord’s stable boys, who always bowed and got shy around me, who got flustered and hard when I looked his way. It was obvious, I could tell.”

“How old were you, that you could read that so easily?”

“Barely sixteen,” she answered.

He raised his eyebrows, clearly a little surprised. “How scandalous, for a proper lady.”

“If you ask my mother, I’m only a lady by the strictest definition of the word.”

“I’d say, considering how you fuck and after hearing that bit of information. You fucked a stable boy at a ball?”

“In the stable, actually. We snuck away,” she shrugged. “I always sneak away at balls, I’m not sure I’ve ever stuck around for the entirety of one yet.”

He chuckled. “Now just for that, we’re going to stay for the entirety when we go to a ball.”

“That sounds absolutely dreadful,” she bemoaned playfully.

“It would be a new experience,” he pointed out. “But how was your young stable boy?”

Mara shrugged. “I suppose as wonderful as any eager young lad can be when taking someone’s virginity,” she replied honestly. “Too enthusiastic and unfortunately over too soon. But he was sweet, and tender, and I never regretted it.”

“Did you ever give him a second chance to prove himself?”

Mara frowned. She couldn’t even quite remember why it was only the one time. “No, it never happened.”

“And how about after that? More servants? More eager young lads?” His eyebrow was quirked. He looked like he was enjoying these questions, enjoying her answers, which she found thoroughly amusing.

“Squires, soldiers, young men or knights pledged to my father,” she sighed. “I tried to stay away from nobles – they always wanted a mistress or a wife, and I didn’t want to be either.”

“You didn’t want to get married?”

“Not until you, which is the truth,” she smiled at him. “That’s how you’ve ruined me – you’ve made me positively domestic.”

He laughed, shaking his head at her mirth. “I’ll believe that when I see it, little minx.”

He watched her for a moment, thinking. “Who was the last before me?”

She paused while she remembered. “A young knight, one pledged to my father. It was before he went off to defend our lands against the fighting from the Mage Templar War. He thought he was going to die; he was very attractive, and he asked so sweetly.”

“How long ago was that?” he was frowning.

“Before you? It was almost two years. It was the early part of the fighting, when the Ostwick Circle first erupted with the rebellion,” she answered.

“No wonder,” he suddenly mused.

“What?”

“When I met you I noticed – you seemed like you hadn’t been touched by anyone in a very long time,” he replied slowly. “I already admired you, from what I had heard from Varric, the stories he had written to me and shared. But when I got here I saw how beautiful you were, how unsatisfied, how lonely.”

She raised an eyebrow at him as she listened to him.

“I had to have you. I took it as a personal challenge, I wanted to give you some relief, some pleasure – and also, of course, enjoy you,” his eyes twinkled.

“Is that so?” she murmured.

“It is, little minx.”

She felt hot between her legs, she could feel herself pulse and begin to get wet.

She was constantly amazed about how much she wanted him, how frequently. She’d never felt so desperate for someone. He was asking about past lovers, but he was asking the wrong questions. He was asking who, but that wasn’t the point. She’d been dissatisfied by the other lovers she’d had, by the formality and incredible, disappointing enthusiasm they all showed to be fucking Lord Trevelyan’s daughter. It always meant things were too hurried, like they couldn’t restrain themselves. Any pleasure she’d gotten she’d had to ask for, or give herself. She had had sex before he invited her up to his room that night.

But she had never been properly fucked or made love to.

All of her depravity was self-inspired, self-indulgent. That first night, she’d seen him look at her so longingly, so lustfully. The fact that the Champion of Kirkwall, so attractive and accomplished, was looking at her that way – it was enough to bring out her inner self finally. He was the first one she didn’t have to imagine doing those things with alone in her room at night, by herself with only her fingers and an active imagination. Instead, he was flesh and blood in front of her, not just willing but zealously encouraging, demanding, exciting all of her desires.

Letting him take her to bed had opened her up, had pulled her out of her shell – just as he’d teased her that night when she finally flirted with him and purred for him to take his pants off. She had never felt so safe, so secure with someone, even when he was ordering her about and tying her up. She suddenly felt an urge to return the favor, to make him feel so desired and loved, the way he made her feel every moment of the day.

She gave him a seductive smile and leaned forward to where he sat at the edge of the desk before her. She ran her hand up his thigh, and saw his blue eyes get smoky as he watched her, obviously excited. She could tell he was hard already, and she slid her hand along his length through his breeches.

“No one’s ever fucked me like you, love,” she murmured as she teased him through his breeches.

“No one’s ever made me come at the same time as them, before you, love,” she purred as she untied his laces to loosen his breeches.

“No one’s ever come inside me, before you, love,” she moaned as she hooked her fingers in the waistband of his breeches and encouraged his hips up off the edge of the desk to slide them down.

He was watching her greedily, unable to take his eyes off her like always when she did this for him. He braced himself with his hands on the desk, his fingers tightening on the wooden edge.

She gave him a smile and licked her lips in anticipation. He moaned just at the sight of that simple action.

She took the tip of him in her mouth and he moaned again, more loudly this time. His head fell back for a second, his eyes closed, but then he snapped it forward so he could eagerly watch her. She held him in one hand, lightly stroking him as she swirled her tongue around his tip. She slid her tongue from the base of him to the tip, and he groaned.

She smiled at him before she took him in her mouth once more, and began bobbing her head, taking more of him into her mouth each time she surged forward.

He didn’t wrap his hands in her hair as he normally did. He didn’t try to direct her or jerk his hips into her, he didn’t take control.

He seemed perfectly content to let her show him, to let her demonstrate her feelings just as she intended.

“Fuck,  _ fuck _ ,” he whispered under his breath, and he bit his bottom lip as he watched her. She moaned around him and let him see her struggle with his size, knowing how much he loved it when she did.

His fingers tightened on the wood, and she could tell that even though he was happy to let her work at her own speed, he was struggling to fight his usual dominant urges.

She began to move faster, she took more chances to stop at the tip and suck him harder as she ran her tongue in a circle around him. He was groaning, letting out the masculine sounds of enjoyment that made her wet. She was positive she was soaking through her small clothes to her breeches, getting absolutely drenched as she pleasured him.

“Mmm, little minx,” he panted. “I’m going to –  _ fuck _ I’m going to come in your mouth – and I want you to swallow all of it. Please, pet, please.”

She nodded around him, moaning her affirmative response, and the vibrations she caused seemed to push him over the edge.

He groaned, his knuckles white where he held the desk so firmly. She felt him throb, felt him pulse, and his hot release hit the back of her throat and she sucked harder, trying to drink it all up.

“Mara – Mara – oh fuck little minx,” he gasped breathlessly, and she finally felt the last of his salty fluid trickle out of his tip.

She sucked hard on him as she withdrew her mouth, creating the obscene wet noise she knew excited him, and sure enough his body jerked and he nearly growled when he felt and heard it. She stared up at him, smiling.

“Do you believe me, love?” she purred.

He held her gaze for a few long moments, his pupils dilated and his breathing heavy.

“Pull your breeches down and bend over the desk, pet,” he replied, his tone firm despite his panting breaths.

Her breath caught and she felt her knees weaken, but she hesitated only a moment before she hastily complied, pushing her breeches down over her ass. She thought he was going to fuck her, but he got on his knees behind her and pushed her breeches further down around her knees. He pulled her thighs apart as much as he could and buried his face in her wetness, his tongue snaking out to reach the top of her slit from his angle behind her.

She cried out immediately, thoroughly surprised. No one had done this from this position before, and she found herself aroused even more than she had been. Which she honestly hadn’t even thought was possible after what she had just done, how much she had enjoyed it.

He slid two fingers into her as he continued working on her with his tongue, and she felt herself clench him slightly at the sensation the fingers created.

“Are you already close, pet?” he murmured against her. “Did you enjoy sucking me, playing my depraved little whore?”

“Yesssss, Garrett,” she hissed as he curled his fingers inside her and increased his pressure on her sweet spot. The tickle of his beard, the fact that his whole face was buried in her…

Maker, it didn’t take long at all before she was sobbing his name and writhing on the desk, clutching the other side and digging her nails into the wood.

He stopped and pressed a kiss to each cheek of her ass before he sat back and wiped his beard.

“Little minx, you’re the most improper lady I’ve ever met,” he stood up and leaned above where she still lay bent over the desk. He nibbled her earlobe and whispered, “and I love you, too.”


	28. Show Don't Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Champion has something to say.

The room was still dark when he opened his eyes, and for a moment he looked around, trying to determine the hour. Mara was asleep in his arms curled facing his chest, breathing deeply and occasionally letting out soft snores in her exhaustion. He stared down at her, realizing suddenly he didn’t care what hour it was. He almost hoped it wasn’t close to sunrise, so that he could hold her that much longer in his arms before they had to leave. He brushed her soft brown waves away from her face, and bent to press a kiss to her forehead.

She had written and sent a letter to her family. She had told them about him, so freely, so readily, without a second thought.

He marveled at the way she had been so understanding of his sudden doubt, his sudden fear that he may have made her a pariah in her family by marrying a mage. He knew that most of the gaggle of children they planned on having would be mages, that those were likely the odds. And he had been – was – an apostate. He didn’t intend to send any children of his to a Circle, if the Circles were reestablished after they restored order to Thedas. He wouldn’t let his children, his family, be taken from him like that. Not now, not after everything he’d lost – and certainly not after he’d finally found  _ her _ , had finally found happiness at last.

He wondered what issues that stance may cause with her family.

Yet she had smiled so brightly, had so cheerily said she didn’t care what they thought, that she was beside him regardless. He had known that he meant that, when he married her and swore his vows. But it was deeply reaffirming to hear her tell him in his moment of sudden doubt, when he was faced by insecurity he couldn’t shake and felt compelled to admit to her.

She had seemed keen on getting her family to accept him, and he wondered a bit if she was trying to make sure he had a family. He could tell sometimes the sad way she looked at him, like she was thinking about how much he had lost. He loved her for that look.

She was his light; that look she gave him, the willingness to get her family to accept him – these traits were so much a part of her, and made him fall in love with her all over again.

He hadn’t thought it possible, but lying there holding her in his sleeping arms, watching her snore softly; he loved her more than he had the day before.

He smiled down at her slumbering form and rubbed his knuckles against her cheek, relishing its softness against his rougher skin. Her brow quirked a little, but she didn’t stir from her sleep. He momentarily considered waking her up with his tongue. The way that she loved, the way that he loved to do it, to see if he could wake her up right as she came, as if challenging himself to be as stealthy about it as he could be until she came to while coming.

The thoughts he had, though, about her acceptance of him, her willingness to stand by him no matter what her family said, made him want to feel her around him. He wanted to be inside her, he wanted to feel as if they were one person, joined together by the act of lovemaking.

He slid his hand along her cheek, softly tilting her face to his so he could press a kiss upon her lips. She murmured something quietly, indistinctly, and he pressed his lips to hers again.

“Mara, my pet,” he whispered. “I love you.”

He ran his fingers through her hair, and brushed his lips against her forehead. He didn’t want to startle her awake, and he was tender, moving slowly, trying to coax her out of her deep slumber.

“Love, love, I want you,” he said softly. “Wife, love of my – light of my life. Wake up, dearest.”

Her eyelashes began fluttering and she raised a bleary gaze to his. “Garrett?” she whispered.

“Are you awake, love?” he murmured. “I want you, I want to make love to you. I want you to know how much you mean to me.”

She gave a sleepy smile, a soft moan escaped her lips. “Mmm, yes, love – I’d like that.”

He rolled on top of her, pushing her on to her back as he did so and taking his place between her legs. He continued whispering sweet words, he continued plying her with soft kisses and gentle caresses. In her half-asleep state she responded as if moving through a fog, but she gave soft whimpers in response to his touch, and languidly responded to his mouth’s passionate insistence against hers.

“Mara, love,” he moaned. “Oh little minx, if you only knew how much I love you – how much you mean to me.”

“Show me, love,” she answered softly.

He gave her a wicked grin, admiring that that was the way she asked him to show his devotion.

‘Show me, love.’

Not ‘tell me, love.’

It was as if they were speaking the same language, as if they understood each other on the most fundamental level.

He settled himself within her and groaned, almost overcome by the sensation of being within her. They had made love so many times now, but he still felt like an untested youth in the first moment he was within her. He took a steadying breath and began to move, and she gave soft whimpering cries against him as she gripped his back with her fingers.

He was lying atop her, pressing her into the mattress, the full lengths of their bodies intertwined. He thought again of the playful letter she had written, of the way she had so brazenly told her family she had married  _ him _ , an apostate, the Champion of Kirkwall.

His thrusts intensified at the thought, he tried to push deeper and he noticed the change in her cries, the change in her moans and gasps. He felt her throbbing slightly around him, he felt her fingernails dig into his back.

“Mara, pet – are you going to come for me?”

She gave a soft, affirmative whimper.

“Wife, wife, I hope you know, please – I hope you know how much I love you,” he moaned, and he watched as her brow contracted, as she suddenly convulsed under his persistent pace. She arched her back, she pushed her perfect breasts tight against his chest, her thighs tightened on either side of his hips.

“Garrett,” she cried out, and the sound was music to his ears.

He thrust within her as deep as he could, and he felt his balls and his cock throb and tighten, and he poured himself into her. The feeling was delicate, breathtaking, and he felt his vision blacken, everything becoming blurry. She always made him cross-eyed, after.

“Mmm, wife,” he groaned. “You’re perfect.”


	29. Mounts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Champion and the Inquisitor set out on their first joint journey together to save Thedas.

Mara hated leaving just as the sun was rising, when it was still dark and the air was frigid enough her breath came out as ice crystals and bit into her skin. She hated leaving her warm bed, especially now that he shared it with her and held her the whole night as they slept, his strong arms tight about her. He made it a little easier to wake up, though, considering how and why he usually chose to pull her out of slumber. It made her happy she’d married someone as restless and energetic in the morning as he was.

They set off on the road surrounded by her companions and the Inquisition forces they were taking with them to confront the Red Templars in Emprise du Lion. She glanced his way occasionally with a small smile, and he was always ready to meet her with a wink or by wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. She found her mind wandering to the soft caresses he’d used to pull her from sleep. She kept smiling to herself as she remembered the passionate, intense way he had moved within her, murmuring tender words of love and praise as he kissed her deeply. Her musings coupled with the fact that he was traveling beside her made the beginning of the journey far more pleasant.

He spoke with all of her companions, telling stories and jokes, and he and Varric soon had all of them laughing and enjoying themselves. Even Cassandra cracked a few smiles, although she looked like she immediately regretted it and tried to hide her mirth behind a scowl. When they set up for camp at night, Mara sat on the edge of a log before the fire, and Hawke sat at her feet, leaning between her knees and telling stories about Kirkwall. They set up their tent together and retired, and as soon as they were within the confines of their tent he grabbed her and pulled her to him.

“I never thought watching someone ride a horse would be so arousing, little minx,” he murmured. He began to pull her armor off. “But it’s given me a few ideas.”

She giggled and raised her hands to his armor as well. “Is that so?”

He merely smirked at her as they stripped each other naked, and he pulled them both down to their sleeping mat. “Come here, pet,” he motioned with a finger, and encouraged her to stretch out on top of him. He used his strong hands to spread her thighs on either side of him, and she bit her lip. “Feel like riding something a bit more enjoyable?”

She couldn’t help but chuckle as he waited for her answer. “Did you take all day to think of that line?”

“I couldn’t do any better,” he reached up and kissed her gently. “I was too busy thinking about letting you do whatever you want to me. You’re the one who’s in need of some stress relief, I’d say. We have a long journey ahead of us, a lot to do once we get there, a lot of people relying on you – and I’ll do what I can to make it easier on you.”

She got a sudden idea and wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Is that so?”

“Of course, little minx. It’s my duty as your husband,” he answered, returning her suggestive smile with a quirked brow.

She kissed him before she crawled further up his body. He watched her eagerly and smirked when she settled herself above his mouth, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “You said anything, love, and I find myself in desperate need of your wet tongue on me.”

He held her gaze as his tongue snaked out and slipped along her slit and he gave a few flicks on her clit. She moaned and rolled her hips, and he kept his tongue moving, allowing her to determine its placement and speed as she moved against his mouth. His hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her skin as he helped give her leverage.

He kept his eyes on her, and she held his lustful gaze as she rocked herself against him, intent on finding whatever pleasure she could as she rode his mouth. She was so excited she could feel herself dripping onto his bearded chin, and somehow that only aroused her further. She continued moving against him while he squeezed the round cheeks of her rear, and she felt herself getting close. She moaned his name and slowed her rocking, teasing herself as he increased the speed of his licking. The combination sent her over the edge and she clapped a hand to her mouth as she came.

When she had finished she lifted one leg and fell off of him onto the tent’s floor, giggling slightly as she tried to regain her senses. He sat up and crawled to where she had fallen and laid taking deep, steadying breaths. He lifted her hips in his hands, thrusting into her easily, immediately beginning to move hard and fast within her. The sensation of him being within her so soon after her orgasm made her cry out softly, and she felt her head spinning. He smirked at her and grabbed both of her calves and lifted her legs, pushing them together and resting them on one of his shoulders. He was kneeling before her, her long slim legs leaning against his chest, her ankles beside his ear.

She gave a louder cry in response as he continued moving within her, suddenly feeling everything more intensely due to the closed, tight proximity of her thighs. His brows were furrowed as he pounded himself into her, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a smirk occasionally as he enjoyed the feeling of thrusting into her as deeply as he could. It wasn’t long before she felt pushed to the edge again, and she parted her thighs the tiniest bit so she could slide a finger between her wet folds to lightly brush her swollen pearl with a finger.

She cried out his name and at the same moment felt him go deep, slamming into her and finding his release as she rolled her hips wildly against him as she found her own. He slowed and gave a few last thrusts with his eyes shut tight, before he finally withdrew from her and lowered her legs. He pulled her back onto the sleeping mat and laid her on his chest, his strong arms encircling her as they took deep breaths and tried to regain their senses.

“When I offered for you to ride me, I didn’t think you’d take me up on it like that,” he sighed, but he sounded incredibly content. “Ah, my depraved little whore…I think I could get used to being your mount.”

She laughed, the sound muffled against his strong chest as she nuzzled his hot skin. “You need to work on better lines, love. I expect more from you.”

“I’ll do better when my head isn’t swimming with the image of you fucking my mouth like that,” he murmured sleepily.

“So never?” she giggled.

“Exactly.”


	30. Rings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Champion finds new reasons to keep up the fight, and upon their return to Skyhold is faced by some visitors, both expected and unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The way I was going to handle their trip into Emprise du Lion was causing me too much grief, so here we go - glossing over it.
> 
> And now, let's have some fun with even more canon divergences!
> 
> xx,  
> L

The battles to take back the Lion were draining, exhausting, and more of a struggle than Hawke had expected. He had fought beside them all in Crestwood, the Western Approach, and at Adamant. They had fought their way through the raw Fade together. The heavy presence of Corypheus’ forces in Emprise du Lion, though, was an unexpected challenge.

He noticed too a difference in how he approached battle now. He was no longer reckless, no longer throwing himself into each fight with careless bravado as if he didn’t care if he lived or died. He had lost his devil-may-care approach to his enemies, and he felt certain he knew why.

Hawke watched as Mara wove her way through battle, as she snuck up on the Templars and slit their throats, as she helped Cassandra flank them and quickly overcome them. She was a sight to behold; she was graceful and deadly and he couldn’t help but admire the way that she fought. But he found his heart constantly racing, his stomach tying in knots when she came too close to a blow, when she barely managed to dodge a swinging blade. He frequently moved to get her in his range should she need his help. He often threw a barrier before her when he thought their foes were getting too close, and directed his flames at the foes surrounding her more often than he did any others.

He had never quite felt like he had so much to lose with each battle, even in Kirkwall, even before Kirkwall. Fleeing the Darkspawn, losing Bethany – that was the closest he had felt to this feeling before, but somehow this anxiety in battle was heightened, more profound than it had been in the past.

Every night when he had Mara alone in their tent he wrapped himself around her as if he couldn’t get close enough to her. He either took her with an intensity that left her breathless and bemused or held her tightly to his chest until they both fell into an exhausted sleep. He slept more restlessly than normal, waking from dreams in which she fell during battle and he was unable to save her. His intense fear of failing came rushing back to him, sometimes overwhelming him until all he could do was wake her up with tender caresses and fuck her until the fear was gone.

Each time he did this she laid beneath him afterwards, panting but holding him tight against her chest as if she knew why he had moved so desperately within her. She responded to and held him as if she was fighting the same fears. Neither of them vocalized their struggles, instead using their desperate lovemaking each night and most mornings as a way to work through it, as a way to assure and bolster one another against the fear and doubt.

The quarry they found made Hawke’s blood run cold. He remembered the red lyrium idol Bartrand had stolen, he remembered Meredith turning into a figure of pure red lyrium. Seeing it growing out of people, knowing that this was what Corypheus was trying to do to the world…

He seethed, and found himself glad he had come back to help the Inquisition, finding more purpose to be there than just to support his wife as she tried to take it all on alone.

They began a hurried journey back to Skyhold once they had succeeded in the Lion, and Hawke found himself strangely glad to be heading back. It had been so long since he had had a place to return to, and he found that he longed for their shared room, their shared bed before they headed out once more. He knew it couldn’t be long before their next expedition, considering what information they had found on the Red Templars and Samson.

Samson.

That was a name he hadn’t expected to come across again, and he found himself keen on having a conversation with the Commander when they returned to Skyhold. This was a problem they were both likely to be incredibly invested in fixing.

 

* * *

  

The first afternoon they were back at Skyhold, Hawke waited as Mara reported to her advisors and informed them of everything they had accomplished and discovered while they were away. He sat by the fire and spoke with Varric, both men musing over the horrible presence of red lyrium, of the dread they felt every time they saw it.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of familiar voices trailing up the staircase beyond the doors to the main hall beside them. Hawke raised his head, his face breaking into a wide grin as he heard the telltale cry of, “Enchantment!” in response to something that likely had nothing to do with enchantment.

But another voice answered with a laugh and his stomach twisted into a knot and he jumped to his feet. Varric turned as well when he heard the approaching voices.

“Is that -” but the dwarf didn’t get to finish his sentence before the approaching trio finally came into view.

Bodahn and Sandal were walking forward, both wearing traveling cloaks and beaming. Hawke smiled and took Bodahn’s offered hand and listened to his hurried greetings, but he lifted a scowl to the person who was trailing behind them.

“Hello, Hawke,” she greeted, and he almost thought she sounded hesitant and unsure of herself.

“Rivaini, what a surprise,” Varric said, and he offered his hand to Isabela with a frown. “How did you find your way to Skyhold?”

The pirate smiled at Varric and gladly took his hand. “It was the funniest thing, I was still in Jader and heard cries of ‘enchantment’ through the marketplace, and I just knew it had to be Sandal.”

“Enchantment!” Sandal chimed in helpfully with a nod.

“I asked where they were headed and when they told me, well,” she raised her gaze to Hawke’s and shrugged. “I just had to come see this Inquisition I’ve been hearing so much about.”

There was something too casual, too flippant in how she said it. Hawke’s scowl deepened. “What’s the real reason, Isabela?” he asked.

Something was definitely up, he could tell, but just as she opened her mouth to answer, a new voice joined their fray from behind Hawke.

“Love, there you are,” he heard Mara call. He turned to face her, and saw a slightly befuddled smile on her face as she looked at the newcomers standing around him. “Who are your friends?”

She stopped beside him and smiled so radiantly up at him that for a moment he forgot to keep scowling.

“Lady Hawke I presume?” Bodahn cut in, and stepped forward with a low bow as Mara gave him an affirmative nod. “Bodahn Feddic at your service, my lady. It’s so wonderful to finally meet your acquaintance, Serah Hawke sent me a letter but his description of your beauty didn’t come close to the reality!”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Mara giggled at his flattery and held her hand out. One brow quirked a little as she took in the introduction. “I didn’t expect to meet the great Bodahn Feddic, I’ve heard so much about you. Whatever brings you to Skyhold?”

“Oh, Serah Hawke sent for us, thought we might be able to help,” the dwarf helpfully replied with a wide grin. “He also sent for these, before I forget -”

The dwarf reached down to his belt and removed a small pouch and passed it to Hawke. Mara was looking at him with confusion still etched on her elegant features, and he smiled as he opened the pouch. He forgot about their audience, too happy to see that the trinkets he had sent for had made it safely to him. He tipped the pouch and a matching set of engraved gold rings fell into his palm. “Excellent, Bodahn!” he chuckled, happy to be reunited with them. “Thank you for holding on to these for me.”

Hawke lifted his gaze to Mara’s and picked up the more delicate ring. He took her left hand in his and slid the ring on to her finger. It was slightly too large, and he frowned a little. “We’ll get that fixed, I’m sure your blacksmith can take care of that for us. Better him than me, at least.”

Mara was staring at the ring with her mouth slightly open, completely taken aback. “Hawke where -”

“They belonged to my parents,” he interjected with a smile. He slid his father’s wedding band onto his finger and found that it was a perfect fit. “I sent for them, realizing Bodahn was likely to still have them along with some of my other valuables from Kirkwall. Sorry for the delay, little minx, but after all – our marriage happened rather quickly.”

She giggled. “I hadn’t even thought about rings, to be honest. It’s perfect though, love.” She stepped forward into his arms and turned her face up for a kiss, and he gladly obliged her.

“I’m sorry, marriage?” Isabela suddenly chimed in, sounding thoroughly shocked.

Hawke raised his head slowly from where he had been pressing his lips to his wife’s and turned to look at Isabela. Before he could reply, Mara stepped forward with a smile and a slight frown on her face.

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced, I apologize – we got so caught up with the rings,” she was still smiling so kindly and Isabela frowned at her as if suspicious. “I’m Mara Hawke, leader of the Inquisition and the Herald of Andraste.”

The other woman’s eyebrows raised as high as they could. “Isabela, Rivaini Admiral. Pirate queen, if you will,” she countered.

Mara’s eyebrows raised as well as she regarded the other woman. “I should have recognized you from  _ The Tale of the Champion _ , I’m so sorry,” the tone of her voice was sweet as honey. “I suppose I hadn’t realized how many years it’s been since Varric wrote the descriptions of everyone in it. I was picturing you much differently.”

Isabela looked like she’d been slapped at the implication of the words, but Mara was still smiling as if her words had been the most innocent thing she could have uttered.

“Whatever brings you to Skyhold, Isabela? Did you help escort Bodahn here safely?” Mara continued, and she held a hand out. “Thank you so much for doing so, I truly appreciate it. I’m sure Garrett does as well.”

She turned back to face him after her handshake was ignored by the other woman, and he saw a twinkling in her eyes that no one else would recognize. She knew exactly what she was saying, knew exactly how she was handling the situation. Her shrewd wit was on full display, and he found himself thoroughly impressed with how gracefully she was handling the encounter. Even if she hadn’t been able to resist getting one subtly scathing remark in; he felt he had to give her at least that one, all things considered.

“Isn’t that right, love?” she prompted him.

He chuckled. “Yes, definitely,” he agreed.

“Actually, I was hoping to speak with you, Inquisitor,” Isabela replied. She seemed to be trying to regain her footing in the conversation.

“Oh? Do you have some business for me?” Mara clasped her hands in front of herself and waited patiently.

“I – yes, but perhaps it’s best handled somewhere more private than the main hall,” the pirate suggested slowly. Hawke frowned as he watched her, feeling suspicious. But there was something serious and eager in Isabela’s tone, and he wondered again what had really brought her to Skyhold.

Mara hesitated for a moment, as if considering her options. Finally she gave another soft smile and gestured with her hand. “If it’s business for the Inquisition, we can handle it in the War Room, if that works for you?”

Isabela nodded and Mara turned to lead the way. Hawke glanced at Varric to see him chuckling and shaking his head. He caught Hawke’s eye and muttered, “You sure can pick them.”

Hawke chuckled as well and turned to follow the two women. Inquisition business or not, he didn’t feel like letting the pair out of his sight. Mara was walking a few paces ahead of Isabela to lead the way, and he noticed she was walking purposefully, but was letting her hips sway slightly. He smiled to himself, knowing she was doing it for his benefit as he followed her. Isabela glanced over her shoulder and caught him ogling his wife’s figure and he thought he saw her frown before she turned back around.

“Do you do a lot of work for the Inquisition, Hawke?” she asked, letting her voice carry over her shoulder.

He chuckled, thinking about how he spent his time trying to take Mara’s mind off her duties in as many ways as he could come up with. “More than you know, yes.”

“Funny, I never would have pegged you for the devout type,” she replied smoothly.

“I just needed the right incentive, I think,” he quipped as they made their way through the doors into the War Room.

Mara turned and faced the pair behind her. He noticed she was still smiling, but she caught his gaze and gave him a small wiggle of her eyebrows. He marveled at their easy, silent communication. He knew her mind was currently wandering down the same delightful path of memories as his was in response to his answers.

“So, Isabela, what important business brings you to Skyhold?” she asked, and turned her intent gaze to the pirate.

“I believe I have some information that may assist you, but I,” Isabela sighed. “I need to exchange it for a favor.”

Hawke groaned and crossed his arms. “Of course you do.”

Mara shot him a subtle frown and returned her attention to the other woman. “I’ll need all of the information first,” she countered. “I can’t delegate our forces without knowing the importance -”

“I have a lead on a large band of red lyrium smugglers, running through Orlais,” Isabela interjected. “I’ve heard about your Inquisition, and your forces and foes, what you’re trying to accomplish. I stumbled on the information, and I can help you find them and put a stop to them.”

Mara raised her eyebrows and nodded. “That would be incredibly useful, if your information is correct,” she agreed. “And what would you like in exchange?”

“I need help reclaiming something that was taken from me,” Isabela said.

Hawke smirked. “Do we get to know what this something is this time?”

Isabela sighed. “My ship.”

Mara pursed her lips and frowned. “I have a few questions,” she mused lightly. “First, how did you lose your ship? Second, do you know where it is? And finally, why come to the Inquisition for help?”

Isabela gave a soft chuckle. “My ship was taken from me, which is why I need to reclaim it. It was stolen. I know where it is, it’s along the coast of Orlais not terribly far from here. And I came to you because I was hoping -” she looked at Hawke and sighed. “I was hoping maybe I could call in friendly favors, I suppose. But also I knew if that didn’t work, I could trade you the information.”

Hawke shook his head. “Good thing you brought the information, because I don’t think I owe you any favors.”

“You know what I -” she began but she glanced at Mara and stopped.

He was surprised when his wife merely smiled, though he was sure she knew where the statement had been headed. “And how far would we have to travel to reach your ship? We have several important matters to attend to. I’m not sure how much time we can spare to help reclaim a pirate’s ship.”

“Admiral,” Isabela corrected. “It would maybe only take two weeks, one there and back.”

Mara pursed her lips and folded her arms against her chest, staring at the map on the war table as she thought. Finally she seemed to reach a decision and nodded silently to herself. “All right, we’ll help you. But I don’t operate like my husband does. You will hand over all of your information about the red lyrium smuggling before we depart, and you will be held personally responsible by the Inquisition if you withhold anything from us. If any part of this is a trap, or if you lie at all, you will be held personally responsible and face consequences. Do you accept those terms?”

Hawke watched as Isabela regarded Mara, looking as if she wanted to protest. He realized how serious she had to be about needing their help when she swallowed hard and nodded. “You have a deal.”


	31. Discussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor has a few interesting reactions and conversations.

Mara finally excused herself from the second war council that had been called that day, confident that Leliana’s scouts would be able to quickly follow up on Isabela’s lead. She hoped it could be within a few days so that they could depart to retrieve the pirate’s ship. She refused to leave before she knew if the information was good, or whether it was a trap. She didn’t necessarily suspect that Isabela intended to lead them into danger, but she didn’t trust that she wouldn’t try to take advantage of the Inquisition’s forces for her own gain. Proceeding cautiously seemed like the best course of action.

She hurried through Josie’s office and veered off once she reached the main hall, spinning the wedding band on her finger as she walked briskly to their quarters. Hawke had left the war council a while before, but she had been held back by an update by the Commander about Samson.

As soon as she entered their chambers she saw him lounging in front of the fire, relaxing in one of the armchairs sitting before it. He looked deep in thought, staring into the flames as he absently twirled some of his own conjured flames between the fingers of one of his hands. She paused when she reached the top of the stairs and stared at him, marveling in the beauty of his effortless, incredible power. She constantly found herself in awe at his abilities, and she sighed a little to herself as she took in the tantalizing sight of him sitting in their room. It helped that the hand he was twirling flames in had his wedding band on it, and the sight set her heart racing.

He glanced up finally and saw her, and at once the flames between his fingers disappeared as he stood.

“Mara, I had no -” he began, but she hurried to close the distance between them.

She stood on her toes and reached up for him, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull his face down to hers. “Shhh, love – shut up and fuck me.”

He raised his eyebrows but he immediately circled her with his powerful arms and lifted her, holding her beneath her thighs which she tightened to cling to his sides. She crushed her lips against his in an overeager and sloppy kiss, and he took several long strides to reach the bed. He flung her across it and stood back as he began to undo the laces on the leather vest and shirt that he wore. She began to undo the fastenings on her uniform as well, and they both moved quickly to remove all of their clothes.

He stretched over her once they were both naked, bent in half where she lay with her knees over the edge of the bed. He captured her lips with his again and for a long moment they said everything they needed to with the dance their tongues took up.

After several long minutes he pulled back and used his powerful hands to flip her over so that she was bent over the bed. She moaned and clawed at the sheets beneath her as he checked with a finger to see if she was excited.

She was dripping wet.

She had been since he’d shown her the wedding band he had sent for, since he’d placed the family heirloom on her thin finger.

Sitting through the war council had been torture, trying to focus while thinking about how much she wanted him inside her, feeling her sex pulse in anticipation of his hard cock within her.

Now, though, she finally lay positioned over the edge of the bed, her fingers grabbing fistfuls of the sheets. She stared at the thin gold band on her finger as he thrust himself roughly into her without preamble.

“Garrett,  _ yes _ ,” she groaned as he twisted his fingers into her hair and pulled her head back.

He took up an unrelenting rhythm as soon as he’d pushed himself into her, and she let out a gasping cry every time he thrust all the way into her. He was groaning, one hand biting into her hip as he directed her response to his movements, the other still tight in her hair.

“Fuck, little minx,” he panted, “you’re already close, aren’t you? What’s gotten into you?”

She gasped and giggled breathlessly. “You,” she teased but he responded to her answer with a powerful slap on one side of her ass and she yelped. “The – the rings, love,” she moaned honestly.

He chuckled and let out another loud groan as he reached his hand around to stroke her swollen clit with a finger as if rewarding her. She angled her hips up and back a bit more and they both cried out at the sensations the change created. He continued to swear and groan, finally able to be loud again now that they were in the security of their room after weeks spent in camp.

“Be loud, pet,” he ordered her. “I’ve missed the sound of you screaming my name when I make you –  _ fuck _ , yes,” he growled as she fell apart beneath him. She was screaming his name over and over as he continued moving within her and touching her to prolong her orgasm. Her whole body was writhing and she was pulling the sheets half off the bed as she dragged them back to her, convulsing and sobbing at the intensity.

Hawke gasped her name as he went deep and finished as her release ended, and he moaned and rolled his hips a few more times, thrusting and enjoying the aftershocks as he always did. He let go of her hair finally and ran his strong hands up and down her back, kneading it gently while keeping her beneath him, staying within her even as he began to soften.

“And here I thought you were going to be angry or upset,” he quipped after a few moments of nothing but their heavy breathing filling the quarters.

“No – no, I’m not,” she panted. “Just desperate for you every time I see this ring on my finger.”

He chuckled. “I honestly hope that feeling never goes away, then.” He withdrew himself from her at last and she felt his release slide down the back of her thighs.

She pulled herself onto the bed all the way and managed to drag herself up to rest her head on the pillows. He stumbled a bit and fell next to her, immediately wrapping his arms around her and clutching her tight against him.

“So you approve of what I did?” he asked, his voice languid and still breathless.

“Very much, love,” she murmured. “It’s perfect. I had no idea.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” he answered, and she could hear the smile in his voice without having to look up at him.

“You really thought I’d be angry with you?”

“Not about the rings, about Isabela,” he corrected.

She sighed and lifted her head so she could look up at him. “Yes, I suppose we should talk about that. I think post fucking is a good time, don’t you? I’m too exhausted and too damn content that I’m still aching from how you just took me to argue at all.”

He chuckled and looked at her. “Sounds good to me.”

“So…she’s here,” Mara began. “What did she say before I interrupted in the main hall?”

“Nothing important,” he sighed. “She seemed dodgy, though, she said she’d come to see what the Inquisition was all about. I could tell there’s more to it though.”

Mara nodded absently and chewed a lip as she thought. “What do you make of our deal?”

“I’d be cautious, if I were you,” he shrugged. “She wouldn’t be malicious. I’ve never known her to concoct schemes to be cruel or hateful to anyone, just perhaps – secretive, and selfish. I wouldn’t be surprised if somehow she makes out better than she should on your bargain.”

“And her ship being stolen?”

He shook his head. “I have no idea, pet.”

“It seems a bit odd, doesn’t it?”

“Of course,” he readily agreed. “But if there’s a chance her information about the red lyrium is good -”

“Leliana is sending scouts now,” she lowered her head to his chest again as she pondered. “Do you think it could be as simple as she came here to see you? That maybe she was unhappy with how Jader went, that maybe she wants to – I don’t know, reconcile, I guess?”

He was silent for so long she finally lifted her head to look up at him. He was chewing a lip as he stared up at the canopy above them, lost in thought. “I’m not sure, love,” he murmured at last. “If that’s the case I’m sorry she made the trek here. Maybe I should have sent her a wedding announcement so she knew she shouldn’t bother.”

Mara giggled lightly but then frowned. “I noticed she seemed genuinely shocked that we were married.”

“She – I think she always assumed that I was like her,” he sighed. “And I think that’s what our issue really boiled down to. I thought she was like me, wanting to be wild and free side by side,  _ together _ . But she thought that would still feel like being owned, and I think she thought in turn that I felt the same.”

“Perhaps that was a bit of wish fulfillment on both of your parts, coupled with denial,” she mused.

He lowered his gaze so he could look into her face. “I think you’ve hit the nail on the head, little minx,” he told her. “But it’s better this way. I’m much happier now than I ever was then, and I think the same can probably be said for her.”

“Just so long as she doesn’t fuck up my Inquisition,” Mara mumbled and rubbed her cheek against the hot skin of his chest. She felt exhausted, and let her eyes droop as she snuggled closer to him. It felt wonderful to lie in their bed again, a wedding band on her finger, savoring the lingering feeling of how hard he’d fucked her as she drifted off to sleep.

She didn’t even find herself concerned that the woman who had broken her husband’s heart was in the keep. She found she couldn’t feel concerned about it at all, not with his strong arms holding her so tightly to his chest.

* * *

Mara walked briskly through the courtyard, carrying the quick notes Dagna had handed her to share with the Commander. She was only half-paying attention to her surroundings when she heard a sultry voice calling out to her.

She halted and turned, and saw Isabela walking toward her from the tavern. She waited with an eyebrow quirked ever so slightly, wondering what the other woman wanted.

It was a bit odd to her, the way she felt so calm and collected around her husband’s former lover. She noticed the ring keenly every time she was faced with the pirate’s presence, though, like it almost felt heavier on her finger. She fidgeted with it lightly, remembering that she needed to take it to Harritt to get it resized.

Isabela stopped before her and gave her a quick once over. “So, what should I call you? Herald, Inquisitor, Mara – Lady Hawke?”

Mara tried to hide the smirk that threatened to spread across her face, and resisted the urge to insist on being called Lady Hawke. “Mara is fine, Isabela,” she answered instead. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I was wondering when we might be leaving,” the other woman answered. “I’m sure you can understand how eager I am to head out to retrieve my ship.”

“Of course,” Mara nodded. “But we’re waiting on word from the scouts Sister Leliana sent out to follow up on your leads.”

Isabela sighed. “You don’t trust me.”

Mara smiled. “No, I don’t.”

“Listen, I’m not sure what Hawke has told you about me -”

“No, it’s not that, Isabela,” Mara interjected. “You’re a pirate. You’ve run off on your allies before. That’s enough for me to be – ah, just a bit guarded. After all you’re asking me to send out the forces of the Inquisition simply based on your word.”

The pirate raised her eyebrows at Mara, as if surprised by her directness. “I suppose I can understand that.” She considered Mara carefully for a moment before she crossed her arms. “What  _ has _ he told you about me?”

“As much as I needed to know,” Mara answered. “But honestly we don’t really spend our time sitting around and talking about things that aren’t important to us. We have much better things to do with our time together.”

The look on Isabela’s face was priceless. “Well, still, I wish you would give me a chance,” she gritted out finally. “I’m trying to help you, after all.”

“And I’m simply trying to make sure your help doesn’t cost me more than I’m willing to pay,” Mara countered. “Now, if you’ll please excuse me, I have a meeting.”

She gave the other woman a curt nod and turned to continue up the stairs to the Commander’s office. She didn’t look back, but instead hurried to the office door and pulled it open.

“Mara, love, fancy seeing you here,” Hawke greeted her when she entered the office. He was sitting across the desk from Cullen, who was leaning his chin in his hands looking as if they had been in the middle of an important conversation.

She hesitated. “Am I interrupting?”

“No, please join us,” Cullen indicated the other chair and she walked forward to take it. “We were discussing Samson and Kirkwall.”

“I see,” Mara nodded and handed Dagna’s notes to the Commander. “Speaking of, this is part of Dagna’s observations from what we found at the quarry.”

The Commander took the notes and began to look them over while Mara turned her attention to her husband.

“Did you know Samson well in Kirkwall?” she asked him.

He shrugged. “We crossed paths a few times. I saw him frequently when he was begging in Lowtown, late at night. He actually helped some mages flee the Gallows – although a few of them ended up with slavers instead.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Cullen did you know about that?”

The Commander gave a sigh and an affirmative nod, still reading through the notes before him.

“Anyway, I thought I would see what I could do to help, considering,” Hawke continued. He was lounging in the chair, looking just as at ease and effortlessly relaxed as he always did. She smiled at him, remembering the night before as she spun the ring on her finger.

“I’ll be sending some men to follow the trail – his notes mentioned Maddox, and…” Cullen looked up from the notes finally and rubbed his forehead as he trailed off. “Hopefully we’ll find him soon, Inquisitor.”

“Excellent. In the meantime, I’ll wait for word from Leliana’s scouts, and then we’ll handle Isabela’s problem,” Mara said.

“Yes, about that,” Cullen frowned at her. “Are you sure we can -”

“Trust her? No. Spare the resources? Only if her information is any good,” Mara answered honestly. “I won’t go back on my word though, if her information helps the Inquisition the least I can do is help get her ship back to return the favor.”

Cullen shrugged and looked at Hawke. “And are you sure about what we discussed?”

Hawke nodded absently. “Yes, I think it’s for the best,” he replied.

Mara frowned sharply and looked between the two men. “What’s going on?”

Hawke gave her a wry smile. “I’ve asked the Commander to look into Isabela’s dealings in Jader and to have someone follow her while she’s at Skyhold. Just in case.”

Mara raised her eyebrows. “Do you think we need to be that suspicious of her?”

“You don’t, but I do,” he replied. “I can’t help it. She doesn’t exactly have the best track record on trust and betrayals.”

Mara sighed and shook her head. “She’s going to know what you’re up to. She was already trying to get me to tell her about you, and what you’d told me about her.”

Hawke raised his eyebrows. “Did she now?” He sighed and leaned his head back on the chair, closing his eyes for a moment as he thought. “I suppose I should talk to her. Maybe it could help us figure out why the hell she came here.”

Mara giggled. “Please do, maybe then we can move on and get back to work.”


	32. For the Right Person

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Champion tries to get some answers, and helps his wife with her burdens.

“Where are you headed off to then, pet?” he asked as they stood to leave the Commander’s office.

“I’m going to go see Harritt, and show him my new ring, maybe speak to Bodahn and Sandal, too,” she winked lightly at him with her answer. “I’ll see you later?”

He smirked at her. “Of course,” and he leaned down and pressed a slightly possessive kiss against her lips. Behind them he heard Cullen clear his throat lightly, and she quickly broke the kiss.

“Later, then,” she sighed and she hurried out the door that led to the library and the keep.

“Sorry, Sullen, I wasn’t trying to rub it in,” Hawke drawled, still smirking as he turned to the other man.

Cullen gave a noncommittal grunt and continued to read the notes before him without looking up.

“Yes, well, with  _ that _ eloquence – I’ll be on my way,” and Hawke turned and left through the door that led to the tavern.

He knew it was where Isabela would be, and he determined to seek her out and speak with her. He felt filled with dread to do it, but mostly because he thought of Mara seeing the blacksmith and Bodahn without him and wished he could be there instead. He’d much rather catch up with the dwarves and watch them get to know his wife than speak with his former lover.

As he pushed into the tavern he marveled a bit at how crowded it was since it was the middle of the day. He was tempted to go back and tease Cullen about his troops being booze hounds, and not fulfilling the duties of the Inquisition. He stopped at the bar and requested a tankard of ale from the barkeep, looking around slyly to find Isabela.

She was behind the stairs sitting at a table with Varric, and after accepting his ale from the barkeep he moved over to the other side of the staircase so that he could listen for a few moments. She hadn’t seen him yet, and he tried to look casually around the tavern to see what he could hear.

“Rivaini, you didn’t just leave Hawke, you left all of the rest of us, too,” Varric was saying. “I mean, I’m not saying Hawke should still be so upset about it after all of these years, but…we needed you, and you bailed. On  _ all _ of us.”

“I’m sorry, Varric,” she said, and Hawke was interested to hear just how sincere she sounded. “I had my reasons for leaving, I wasn’t just being a bitch. I had to.”

“Oh? And mind sharing those reasons, maybe?” Varric prompted her.

“No, Varric,” she sighed, sounding exasperated. “They were my reasons. I just – I had to.”

“I thought we were friends,” the dwarf pointed out.

“We are,” she answered. “I just had some things I needed to do, something that came up.”

“Something more important than helping your friends?”

“I – yes, I suppose,” Isabela said. “Are you going to be angry at me all day?”

“At least for one day, yes,” Varric replied smoothly.

“Well at least tell me – what can you tell me about Mara? She seems…I’d say nice, but all of her words have sounded like poisoned honey,” Isabela mused.

“Can you blame her, Rivaini? You show up out of the blue, asking for help, offering information – she knows about Jader. Andraste’s tits,  _ I _ know about Jader,” Varric chided.

“I didn’t think he was serious,” Isabela tried to defend herself. “I just thought he was pissed at me, I didn’t know he was in love.”

“Well, thanks to you he came running here and married her as fast as he could,” Varric told her. “So really, I’m not surprised Mara is  _ trying _ to be nice to you. You’re the reason he decided he couldn’t wait another moment to be with her.”

The pirate queen didn’t answer, and Hawke chanced a peek around the railing of the stairs to see her looking down into her tankard.

“Oh cheer up, you didn’t want to marry him anyway,” Varric chuckled humorlessly. “You can’t be upset that he found someone who did want to.”

“No, you’re right,” Isabela sighed. “I just…you’re right, you’re right, I shouldn’t be upset about it.”

Varric was staring at her for a moment, confused, but he finally raised his gaze and saw Hawke standing nearby. He seemed to realize Hawke was trying to listen in, because he didn’t immediately announce his presence. Instead he gave an exaggerated look around, as if Hawke had just walked in and begun to make his way to their table.

Hawke smiled and began to saunter over as Isabela looked up at him as well.

“Hawke! What are the odds,” Varric said, sounding believably surprised.

“Figured some ale was needed,” Hawke declared as he took his seat beside Varric at the table. “We had a long journey, after all.”

“And I’m sure you had a long night last night,” Varric teased, but then he looked up at Isabela and cleared his throat as if he remembered himself. “We were just catching up.”

“I see,” Hawke said slowly, taking in the look in Isabela’s eyes. “So, Isabela – what really brings you to Skyhold?”

The pirate almost seemed offended. “I told you what brought me here.”

“Oh? And was that everything?” Hawke raised an eyebrow at her.

“Yes, it was,” she answered, but she seemed defensive.

“And why don’t I believe you?” he asked, sounding more honest than he meant to be.

“Because you want to suspect me of something?” she countered. “Honestly, Hawke, it’s like you’ve forgotten who I am.”

“Oh I remember perfectly,” he couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice.

She took a long gulp of her ale and almost glared at him. “I told your  _ wife _ why I’m here,” she said finally. “I need your help and I’m willing to trade for information.”

“And where did you get this information?”

“I have my connections, you know that,” she answered. “And I noticed something suspicious and followed up on it. Simple as that. All of Thedas is going to shit right now, I thought I’d do the right thing.”

Hawke considered her over the rim of his tankard as he took a sip. “I suppose we’ll see.”

“You still don’t trust me?” she asked, almost sounding hurt.

“Why should I?” he asked pointedly. “Jader wasn’t that long ago, and you didn’t ask for my help then. And before that there was – oh yes, five years that I didn’t hear from you because you left right when I needed you.”

She swallowed hard and looked at him for a moment. “I’m sorry about Jader,” she finally admitted. “I didn’t realize you had someone who was so – special to you…and as for before that, well – things turned out well enough, wouldn’t you say?”

Hawke shook his head and took a drink of his ale. It was just like her to overlook all of the hardships for the good.

“I never thought you’d get married,” she mused after a moment of silence. “You never seemed like the type.”

“I was always the type for the right person,” Hawke answered honestly. “It was something I wanted on the condition that I found them. And that didn’t happen until recently.”

He wondered what reaction he had expected out of her. She didn’t look bothered by his words, as if she knew too that marriage was not something she had wanted, and she wasn’t terribly upset he’d found it elsewhere.

“Yes, well, she seems – lovely,” she said haltingly.

Hawke chuckled. “Please, Isabela, you don’t need to pretend. It’s obvious she’s gotten under your skin.”

Isabela looked away from him and took a long swig of ale.

He still didn’t fully trust why she was there, but he didn’t feel like he would be able to get it out of her. Instead he took a deep drink from his tankard and turned his attention to Varric to strike up a conversation.

 

* * *

 

Hawke finally left the tavern and headed for their quarters, intending to see Mara. He was irritated by Isabela’s presence. He was irritated that she still seemed shifty and dishonest about why she was there. But he wasn’t quite sure how he would be able to get it out of her.

It was the middle of the afternoon, but he assumed Mara would be out of meetings and hopefully in their room. He knew she had a pile of reports to go through after their time away. He climbed the stairs, and sure enough he saw her sitting at the large wooden desk that took up the corner between the balconies.

She had one elbow propped on the desk, her head in her hand as she read through a report in her other hand. She looked incredibly stressed.

He would have blamed the ale for where his mind wandered if it wasn’t something he always thought about.

“Hello, little minx,” he greeted  her, and she looked up quickly from the report she held.

“Garrett,” she smiled. “Did you find Isabela? Find out why she’s here?”

He chuckled. “Yes and no,” he answered honestly. “But how are you, pet? You look stressed.” He continued his way forward, his walk a slow saunter until he reached the desk that she was sitting at.

She sighed and looked at the report, but he could see an eager flush come onto her cheeks in response to his slow approach. “I could be better,” she sighed wistfully.

“Is that so?” he chuckled. “I may be able to help with that…”

She raised her eyes to his, her brows furrowed slightly but a small smile playing across her lips. “You think so, do you?”

He merely wiggled his eyebrows and winked at her before he began to walk around the desk. She stayed still, not daring to move a muscle as he stalked toward her. He stopped before her and managed to work his way between her legs and the desk. He smirked down at her and then dropped to his knees.

“Yes, pet, I do think so,” he murmured.

She was watching him hungrily as he reached to the laces of her breeches and undid them. She lifted her hips so that he could pull them down off of her, and he yanked off her boots quickly so he could bare her legs completely.

“Garrett – I was supposed to have a meeting soon – I need to -”

But he didn’t let her finish, instead he leaned forward and shifted her hips with his powerful hands to tilt her up to him where she sat in the chair. He pulled both of her legs up over his shoulders so that her feet rested on the desk behind him. She was spread completely for him, her legs wide, her feet on the wood behind him over his shoulders, her cunt completely exposed.

He could see she was already becoming slick with excitement, and the sight of it made him wild. He gave her one quick glance to see the lustful gleam in her eyes before he buried his face into her soaked folds. She cried out and he took up a quick rhythm against her already excited pearl, not bothering to tease or build her up to it. He was relentless, licking at her as deftly as he could until she was half-screaming and bucking her hips against his mouth.

Hawke took her hips in his powerful hands and held her steady, not allowing her to move against his mouth after she finished her first strong release. He took a short break, running his tongue on the sides of her thighs, at the soft spots where her thighs met her sex, but after several moments he returned his mouth to her heat and warmth and she cried out his name in pleasure.

He wondered if he should have locked the door or if he should ask her how long until her meeting. He decided not to worry about either of those things at the moment. Instead, he stayed kneeling before her, his face buried deep between her legs while he ran his tongue all along her slit, lapping up her excitement, focusing on her swollen pearl until she was sobbing.

“Ga-Garrett,” she gasped. “You – oh  _ fuck _ , you’re so – oh love,  _ don’t stop _ .”

He pushed harder on her hips as they began to jerk against him again, once more finding her release as he slid two fingers into her to feel her clench around them. When she had finished he raised his head to look at her, giving her a smirk as he took in her appearance.

She was slumped in the chair, her arms thrown over the back to try to hold herself up. Her long waves were spread over the chair and her shoulders, her cheeks flushed and her pink lips swollen from how she had bitten and worried them in her excitement. He kept his fingers within her, slowly stroking her as he watched her eyes shut tightly, a low moan escaping her throat.

“Do you feel a bit better, little minx?” he asked.

She fluttered her eyes open and looked at him, her grey eyes dusky with her spent lust. “Yes, much,” she giggled and let out a wistful sigh. “But I have a meeting, love.”

He lightly thrust his fingers within her once more and then finally removed them, wiping his beard with his other hand and leaning back on his heels. She finally removed her feet from the desk and tried to sit up straight in the chair but she was shaking. She giggled as she struggled to get her breeches and boots back on, and he watched her trembling with a smirk on his face.

She leaned forward and gave him a deep kiss, and she softly moaned when she tasted herself on him. “Mmm, love, until later,” she purred, and she picked her reports up off the desk and stood. Her legs were shaky under her, and he watched as she tried to steady herself and walk to the stairs to leave. She gave him a wink over her shoulder before she departed, and he chuckled to himself and finally stood from where he had knelt in front of her desk.


	33. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Champion and the Inquisitor are faced with a shocking revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been leading up to the Isabela reveal, and instead of being a meanie and doing cliffhangers like I normally do, here's one long chapter. All will be revealed.
> 
> xx,  
> L

“You know, pet, at this point it’s almost comical how aroused I get just by watching you pack,” Hawke leaned over and whispered in her ear.

She giggled and finished fastening the buckle on her saddle. “Is it the memories?”

“Yes, several very fond moments have happened because you were packing,” he answered. He nipped her earlobe and ran his tongue along it quickly before he pulled away with a soft slap on her ass. “Unfortunately we don’t really have time to recreate any of them at the moment.”

She shot him a suggestive smile. “No, but maybe tonight.”

“I’ll hold you to that, little minx,” he said, the gleam in his eyes making her heart race.

“Can we please get going?” Isabela said from behind them. She was already on her horse, looking incredibly impatient.

Varric, Iron Bull, and Dorian were also getting onto their mounts, and Hawke finished fixing his saddle before he leaned down to boost Mara onto her horse. The six of them made their way out the gates of Skyhold to begin their journey.

At first, things were strained as they set out. Varric tried to diffuse the tension by telling stories, and Dorian and Iron Bull rode behind the rest and spoke together quietly. Isabela seemed lost in her own world, looking around them and only answering if Varric spoke to her directly. Mara and Hawke rode at the front of their little group, their horses close together. He shot glances at her occasionally, and she always made sure she was waiting with a smile for him.

He seemed on edge. She wished there was something she could do, but while they were traveling her usual methods of reassurance were limited. Instead she asked him questions about Lothering, about how different he had found the Free Marches from Ferelden. She drew him out of his shell by asking him questions about his family, asking about his parents and Bethany and Carver. Although he seemed slightly melancholy at first, he quickly brightened up, happy for the chance to tell her about the loved ones he had lost.

“My mother and father would have loved you,” he said after one of his stories. “My father would have appreciated how untamed you are, and my mother would have loved your tender heart.”

“I wish I could have met them,” she agreed with a soft smile.

“Leandra would have loved you,” Isabela chimed in from behind them. “She was always trying to set Hawke up with some nobleman’s daughter, but if she’d met you – there would have been no contest.”

Mara looked over her shoulder at the other woman, a confused smile on her face. If she wasn’t mistaken, Isabela was being genuine.

“Oh, Hawke, remember that one – what was her name, Lady Wetworth? Bedford?” Isabela asked with a laugh. “The one with the lazy -”

“Lady Betworth, the mousy, timid one,” Hawke supplied, and he let out his deep laughter at the memory. “Oh, I really wish mother hadn’t tried to spring her on me like that.”

“I’m sure they both wished they hadn’t as well,” Isabela continued to laugh harder. “Her face, the poor dear. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone blush so much.”

Hawke was still chuckling and he caught Mara’s eye. “My mother decided to surprise me with one of her matches and I wasn’t – ah – exactly decent.”

“I’d say,” Isabela snorted.

Mara giggled despite the implication, somehow only feeling a little prickle of jealousy at the thought. She focused instead on the day before when he had pleasured her at her desk, and realized she had nothing to worry about. What happened in his past was best left in the past.

“I’ll say though, if you’d been in Kirkwall, mother would have been after you _relentlessly_ to try to arrange a marriage between us,” he teased. “You’re everything she wanted in a daughter-in-law.”

“I’m glad I wasn’t in Kirkwall,” Mara giggled. “I was only a teenager, then, that would have been rather awkward.”

Hawke stared at her for a moment and then burst out laughing, like he forgot sometimes about their age difference.

“I don’t think that would have stopped Leandra,” Varric chimed in. “She would have just spent that much more time trying to get Hawke to like the idea of marrying a nobleman’s daughter until you were of age.”

Hawke chuckled. “If only she knew that’s exactly what I ended up doing.”

“She’d be happy, that’s for sure,” Isabela said softly.

“She’d be happy for a few moments and then immediately ask when you were going to give her a grandchild,” Varric guffawed.

Mara looked over her shoulder to laugh with the dwarf, and she could have sworn she saw an odd look pass over Isabela’s face. It happened so quickly though that she told herself she was imagining things, that she was just making herself suspicious because of her past history with Hawke.

The pirate caught her eye and gave a small, tentative smile. Mara returned it warmly.

She wasn’t quite sure why she was trying so hard to be nice to the other woman. By all accounts she had hurt Hawke deeply, but Mara couldn’t bring herself to be spiteful or mean to her. It wasn’t in Mara’s nature, and even though she bristled a little to have her husband’s former lover around, she wasn’t letting it blacken her mood. She had no fears that he would go back to his pirate queen. Especially considering the way he was still spending all of his time lusting after and declaring his love to Mara, even after his former lover arrived at Skyhold.

Isabela had needed a favor and used it to bargain, but her information had actually been good. Cullen was already arranging their forces to interrupt and halt the red lyrium smuggling she had told them about. It was going to be a huge victory for the Inquisition, a large blow against Corypheus’ forces. She had helped them immeasurably.

Something still didn’t seem quite right, though, and Mara spent a large part of their journey that first day trying to figure it out. It didn’t seem like danger, it didn’t seem like Isabela was tricking them into a trap or hiding something life-threatening. But there was something in her demeanor, something under the anxious energy in her that Mara couldn’t put her finger on. Honestly, she was chalking her feeling up to what her mother would have called a woman’s intuition – she could just tell, something was there beneath the surface.

Their camp that night was slightly stilted, with her companions trying to joke and tell stories, but also seeming unsure with the presence of the pirate in their midst. Hawke was slightly quieter than normal, and Mara wondered if she shouldn’t have spent so much time asking him about his family. He almost looked a little sad.

She finally decided she’d had enough of his quiet reserve, and leaned down to where he sat beside her feet at the fire. “I think you had a promise you were going to hold me to tonight, didn’t you?” she breathed in his ear.

A smile broke across his face immediately and he looked up at her. “I think you’re right, pet,” he murmured. He pushed himself to his feet and held his hand out to help her up as well. He waved absently over his shoulder to their companions and led her by her hand to their tent.

Once within the confines of their tent, they stripped out of their armor as they shot each other smirks and winks. When he had gotten down to his breeches and she was naked, she walked to him and trailed her fingers over his chiseled stomach, tracing the trail of hair that started on his chest and led down into his breeches.

“Are you all right, love?” she asked softly. “You seem sad, should I not have brought up your family?”

“No, little minx, it’s fine,” he slid his hands down to her rear and squeezed, holding her plump cheeks in his hands. “I love telling you about them.”

“Then what is it?” she asked, letting out a soft moan as he leaned forward to slide his hot mouth along her throat.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” he admitted, his breath hot against her skin. “I just can’t shake the feeling.”

“I know, me too,” she wrapped her arms around his neck. He stooped and lifted her into his arms, and she circled his waist with her legs. “It will be all right, though. We’re in this together.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he gave her a deep kiss and laid her down on their sleeping mat. He sat back and undid his breeches, sliding them off quickly. “Although a little reassurance wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

She giggled, eager anticipation flooding her until her limbs trembled slightly as if she was cold.

Their attentions on each other were intense, his fingers leaving paths of red marks as they moved over her skin, grasping and gripping her flesh as if he couldn’t get enough of it while she raked her nails over his back and nipped his shoulder and neck with her teeth. He caught first one and then the other nipple in his mouth, tugging them with his teeth and mouth until she was gasping and mewling gently in response. His hands wandered lower and parted her thighs, pushing them back so he could take his place between them.

He slid his fingers along her slit, spreading her slick excitement over her as he expertly began stroking her, pushing her quickly to the edge with just a few moments’ attention.

“Garrett, please,” she moaned softly, begging him without being prompted.

He smirked at her, and instead of teasing her like she expected him to, he shifted and thrust into her and began moving as soon as he was inside her. She gasped and moaned, his fingers still working on the bundle of nerves he had been exciting. He started thrusting more roughly, the sounds of his hips and his balls slapping against her flesh echoing through the tent.

She was already close to falling apart, and she clapped her hand over her mouth to quiet the soft cries she was making. He gave a growl and took her wrist in one hand, pulling it away from her mouth and pinning it down. She raised her gaze to his and saw an intense gleam in his eyes as he quickened his pace and tried to go deeper.

“Lo-love, wait, I -” she tried to protest, but he just smirked at her and continued his work to make her come. Normally at camp they tried to be quiet out of respect, but she could tell looking at him that he needed to hear her usual cries and noises as she fell apart.

She didn’t have any more time to try to protest. He adjusted the angle of his thrusts and hit her sweet spot, and she gave a loud whimper as she felt herself come undone. His name poured from her lips, and he gave a triumphant growl and drove in deep, burying himself in her as he found his release, the hot liquid pooling within her.

He finally released her wrist and collapsed his full weight upon her, breathing heavily. She wrapped her arms around him, trying to regain her senses as he pressed lazy, sloppy kisses to the skin of her neck where his face was nuzzled.

“Sorry, little minx, I just needed to hear you say my name,” he murmured. “The way you sound when I’m making you come is the best thing I’ve ever heard.”

She giggled. “And here I thought you were trying to make sure a certain someone knew what we were doing.”

“Well, maybe that too,” he admitted almost sheepishly. He rolled off of her and pulled her with him so that they lay facing each other, his arms wrapped around her. “Mostly though, I just love hearing you sound so helpless while I’m buried deep within you.”

She nestled closer to him, trying to get as close as she could until the black hairs on his chest were tickling her nose as she breathed. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mara.”

 

* * *

 

As the days of their short journey passed, Hawke found himself increasingly anxious. Nothing had happened, nothing really seemed wrong, but he couldn’t help feel like their destination was going to bring more than just a fight to get a ship back. He glanced Isabela’s way frequently, trying to determine her mood and motivation. She seemed just as anxious, as the journey progressed, and he began to wonder at the cause. Asking her seemed useless, though, and every time he tried she seemed to get more guarded and irritable.

Mara seemed slightly nervous as well, though he could tell she was trying to hide it from him, always smiling brightly at him when he caught her eye. He loved the way she tried to reassure him, but for once it wasn’t working as well as it normally did.

At the end of the fifth day they finally got near enough to their destination that Isabela insisted they stop.

“We should make camp here and sneak in after nightfall,” she said, hopping off her horse.

“Can you show me where we’re going? I’d like to get a look at the place,” Mara asked as she dismounted as well.

“Uh – yes, here, it’s – this way,” Isabela tied her horse’s reins to a tree and pointed in the direction they had been headed.

Mara passed Hawke her reins and followed the pirate. Hawke tied the reins as quickly as he could to follow them, wanting to get a look at their destination as well. He hurried after them, and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw what Isabela was pointing out to Mara.

“Isabela,” he said slowly, walking up behind them. “I can’t help but notice there’s no ship anywhere near here. In fact, we’re still a few days out from the coast, aren’t we?”

The pirate turned a guilty face to him. “I…yes, we are.”

Mara drew one of her daggers, but didn’t hold it up; simply removing it from its scabbard was enough of a threat as she looked over the other woman. “Isabela, I told you not to lie to me. What are we really doing here? And I want the truth.”

Hawke noticed that all of Mara’s usual sweetness was gone, her tone commanding and firm as she looked at the other woman.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to tell you,” she sighed. “I thought it was easier to say I needed my ship back.”

“Then what are we really doing here?” Hawke demanded.

“We’re rescuing someone,” Isabela sighed. “In that cave. They’re being held hostage, and we need to sneak in and get them back.”

“Who and why? What were they demanding?” Mara asked with a scowl.

“It was retaliation,” Isabela sighed. “It’s all my fault, and I didn’t know who else to turn to to help me get them back. I couldn't trust anyone else.” Isabela turned a desperate look to Hawke, and he saw the fear and trepidation in her eyes.

   “You could have said it was a rescue mission,” he gritted out. “Did you think we wouldn’t have helped?”

“I panicked, all right?” she said, her voice sounding almost desperate. “Please, please help me, it’s – it’s all my fault, and I need your help.”

Mara sighed and sheathed her dagger once more. “I need every detail about what we’re up against – _now_.”

Once darkness had fallen the six of them crept toward the cave, split into two groups of three. Iron Bull led the way, Mara and Isabela following close behind while the two mages and Varric trailed after them. Isabela wasn’t certain of the number of enemies they were facing, but the size of the cave made her think it couldn’t be more than twenty. Hawke couldn’t tell if that was reassuring or not.

“Please, be careful,” Isabela implored them. “I don’t want them to hurt their prisoner.”

Hawke saw Mara give her a glare, and he could tell she was still angry about the deception, as well as the way that Isabela didn’t seem to be in a hurry to tell them who they were rescuing. She had seemed to resign herself to it, though, and didn't bother trying to get it out of the pirate.

They made their way into the cave, all creeping quietly, Mara and Isabela sneaking ahead to see what enemies they could take out with stealth. Ahead of them Hawke could hear the sounds of a few bodies collapsing with muffled groans, and he knew that they had been successful with at least a few of the enemies. A shout rent the air suddenly, and Iron Bull charged ahead into the room, his large sword raised and ready for a fight.

The other three followed, standing back in the small cavern of a room as they took aim at the small group of foes before them. Mara and Isabela danced through the battle, trying to take the enemies out quickly before they were able to raise the alarm.

There was too much of a commotion from the fighting, though, and soon more men poured in through a pathway to their right.

“Shit! She’s here – quick, take them out!” one of them yelled.

Hawke turned and set the man on fire before he threw a barrier around Mara just in time to stop another of the foes from sneaking up on her.

Between the six of them they made quick work of everyone within the room, and as soon as the last one fell Isabela charged off down the path to their right to head further into the cave. Mara swore and tore after her, and Hawke followed as close behind as he could.

“Don’t come any closer!” he heard a deep voice cry out ahead of him.

He rounded a corner into a smaller room, which was lined with a few small cots. A man in heavy leather armor, bald, and his face painted with dark war paint was standing in the center of the room. A woman was standing beside him, a sneer on her face, wearing similar war paint to the man. She seemed to be trying to hold someone behind her, someone tiny, almost like…

Hawke’s eyes widened and he felt his breath halt in his throat, speechless as he took in the scene.

“I told ya we wouldn’ take kindly to yer meddlin’,” the man jeered. “Didn’ I say that?”

“You said a lot of things,” Isabela quipped. “I decided not to listen to most of them. Now please, give her back and no one has to get hurt.”

“That wasn’ our deal!” the man spat.

“How about this deal,” Mara chimed in, her tone sweetly menacing, and the man looked at her as she took a small step forward. “Hand her over and the Champion of Kirkwall won’t set you on fire.”

Hawke stepped forward as well, looking between the two before them. He casually held up a hand and twirled flames in it to emphasize his wife’s threat.

But his heart was pounding, and he was concentrating as hard as he could. Fire would be dangerous in this small space, especially considering how close the woman was holding their hostage.

“The Champion of Kirkwall?” the man sounded alarmed as he took in Hawke’s appearance. “But -”

“I told you not to mess with me,” Isabela said, her voice a dangerous purr. “Now hand her over.”

The man and woman glanced at one another, obviously rethinking their plan. Dorian, Varric, and Iron Bull finally caught up to them, and all took their places in the mouth of the pathway, blocking any chance of escape for the two enemies before them.

“All – all right, here -” the woman said, and she released her prisoner.

“Step away from her, now,” Mara demanded, and the pair before them held their hands up and walked away from their captive.

In a flash, Isabela rushed forward and stuck one of each of her daggers in the throats of their enemies, a triumphant look in her eyes as she watched them splutter and fall to the ground, blood gushing from their wounds.

“You should have listened to me,” she scoffed. She took only a moment more to stare down at them before she hurried over and knelt before the small figure they had released. “Are you all right, love?”

Hawke was staring dumbfounded at the hostage, still trying to take it in. But his confusion ended when Isabela removed the blindfold over the captive’s eyes, and he felt his stomach lurch.

Deep, bright sapphire blue eyes stared up at Isabela, and then looked around timidly to take in the others standing around the room.

“Don’t look over there, love, here,” Isabela was saying, trying to keep the sight of the two dead bodies behind her out of sight.

“Is-Isabela,” Hawke began, his voice barely audible, choked with his churning emotions. “Isabela -”

But he couldn’t get the words out.

Isabela ignored his attempts to get her attention, too busy looking over the small girl for signs of harm. “Did they hurt you?” she asked, and the child shook her head.

“No, but they were scary,” the girl answered in a tiny, trembling voice. “I’m – I’m hungry.”

Mara stepped forward to the child, rummaging in the small pouch on her waist. “Here, dear, I have some fruit, would you like it?” She knelt and held it out.

The little girl smiled and nodded eagerly, taking it from Mara and looking at her with wide eyes.

_Wide, sapphire blue eyes._

Hawke couldn’t stop staring at the familiar eyes, his brain working to try to make him accept what he was looking at.

A small child, not yet five, with long, wavy black hair and golden skin. Isabela was pushing her hair out of her face, still looking her over to check for damage as the girl began eating the fruit Mara had handed her.

“My name’s Mara,” his wife was saying. “What’s yours?”

“Magdalena,” the child answered. “But you’re nice – you can call me Mags if you want.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mags,” Mara said.

Hawke noticed the slightest tremor in his wife's voice, and his heart broke for her, though he wasn’t quite sure what he could do. Her tone gave him the nerves he needed to try to address Isabela once more. “Isabela, would you care to explain?”

The pirate looked up at him, fear and guilt etched in her features. “I – I didn’t know how to tell you,” she confessed softly.

That small admission finally drove it home, and he clapped a hand over his eyes and staggered back a step as he took in her words. Rage and frustration tore through him, and he dragged his hand down his beard before he turned back to glare at her. “You didn’t think to tell me – for over five years -” he gritted out. “Is this why you ran off?”

But the pirate simply hung her head and looked back at the child beside her.

“How could you?” he asked, his voice rising.

“Garrett!” Mara turned to face him, a scowl on her face. “Now’s not the time, we need to get her back to camp. She’s just been through something horrible, she doesn’t need to see you two yell at each other, too.”

Her tone was scolding, fiercely protective, and he watched in awe as his wife stood up and reached down to the small child, pulling her into her arms to balance her on her hip. “Close your eyes, Mags, and I’ll get you out of here,” she said gently.

Without a backwards glance at either he or Isabela, Mara marched out of the room, carrying Hawke’s daughter on her hip.

“Well, this is sufficiently awkward,” Dorian quipped before he turned to follow Mara, Iron Bull trailing behind him and chuckling. Varric looked between Isabela and Hawke, like he wanted to say something. But for the first time, he seemed to be at a loss for words and he turned to leave as well.

Hawke stood with his hands on his hips, trying to calm his temper.

“Hawke…”

“What – what were you thinking?” he asked, his voice low and full of pain. “How could you not tell me?”

He turned to look at her and saw her eyes sparkling with tears.

“I was scared,” she admitted. “Everything was happening with the Qunari, and the relic, and I – I never wanted children.”

“If it weren’t for the eyes, I’d be tempted to ask if she’s even mine,” he said, unable to resist getting a dig in. He was hurting beyond words, and felt like lashing out.

“She is,” she said softly. “You were the only one, that – well, let’s just say I know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you run? I’m trying to understand, Isabela, please explain it to me,” he pleaded with her.

“I didn’t want you to feel tied to me,” she confessed. “And you would have. You would have stuck by me even though it would have made you miserable. I was never going to change, even though I know you wanted me to.”

He shook his head and looked away from her, rubbing his beard again as he thought. She was right, he would have stuck beside her no matter what, no matter how much they fought and began to despise each other as the years went on.

“You still should have told me,” he sighed. “It’s been over five years, Isabela. Didn’t I deserve to know I had a daughter?”

“I’m sorry,” she conceded. “As time went on it became harder to ever tell you. It got to the point that I was just never going to be able to.”

"What about when we saw each other in Jader?" he asked, frowning sharply.

"I didn't want to deal with it, then," Isabela sighed. "When you saw me you looked so angry - I decided I couldn't tell you...I was a coward."

“Has she been with you this whole time? Do you have her on your ship, raising her on the seas -”

“No, no, I left her with someone I could trust,” she shook her head. “You know me, I’m not the maternal sort. So I left her with someone to raise, and I visited her when I could. She’s had a good life, until I fucked up and got her kidnapped.”

“And how exactly _did_ that happen?” he gritted out.

“I let it slip to the wrong person,” she sighed again. “It was my fault, I take full blame for it.”

He stared at her, shaking his head. He was still trying to wrap his head around everything.

He had a child.

He had a daughter.

A daughter who was currently being taken care of by his wife, who had been tricked into rescuing her without knowing she even existed.

“Did you think so little of me that you couldn’t tell me what we were doing?” he asked finally.

“No, I just – I panicked. I didn’t know how to show up and say, ‘hello Hawke, sorry it took me so long to tell you, but you have a daughter and she’s been kidnapped,’” she said. “And when I did show up, I met your wife right away, and Bodahn had the rings, and I just…I didn’t know how to say it.”

He glared at her, unable to put into words the way he was feeling.

“I didn’t want to seem like I showed up to make trouble, I didn’t want to ru-ruin your happiness,” her voice broke, and he was surprised to see she was crying. “I did love you, you know. And I’m happy for you, you have what you always deserved. Mara’s wonderful, Garrett. She really is.”

Hawke stared at her for a moment and then sighed, taking a few steps to her and pulling her into a hug. “I loved you too. And I’m sorry that I tried so hard to change you, Izzy. You’re wonderful the way you are. We just weren’t suited for each other, not really,” he squeezed her tightly and then released her. “And as for Mara – well, we’ll see if she’s still my wife after this…”

“It’s my fault, I’ll make sure she knows that,” Isabela said as she wiped her eyes. “She shouldn’t blame you for any of this. I’m sorry – I’m so sorry I caused problems.”

They fell into step beside one another and began to make their way back to camp.

 

* * *

  

It was odd to Mara, seeing the sapphire blue staring at her out of a different face. The sparkling orbs were beautiful, though, and she knew that they were exactly the same shape and shade as his were. Looking into those eyes surrounded by long, black eyelashes and deep, golden skin, she felt herself fall in love a bit with the small girl who was clinging to her neck. Seeing those eyes, seeing her round face with little hints of him all over made her feel protective, deeply concerned about whether or not she was all right.

Her head was swimming, and she was in too much shock to fully process everything at the moment. All she’d known was that she needed to take care of the girl, to get her out of that cave without seeing any of the carnage. There was more food and water at camp, and they could make sure she really was unharmed.

Then Mara could process how she felt.

She was impressed by the little girl’s resilience, seeming to be only mildly terrified after what she had gone through. It gave her hope that the people who had taken her hadn’t been too harsh with her.

Magdalena tightened her arms around Mara’s neck as she looked around after they left the cave, and then she glanced back up at the woman who carried her. “How do you know my mama?”

Mara pursed her lips for a moment. “Through friends,” she finally said, thoroughly unsure of how to answer. Did the little girl even know anything about her father?

“Are you a sailor too?” the little girl asked.

Mara smiled slightly. “No, no, I’m not one for ships,” she answered.

“Mama says sailing is the best feeling in the world,” Magdalena continued. “She says one day she’ll take me.”

“I’m sure that will be wonderful,” Mara agreed lightly.

They reached camp finally and she made her way to a small stump to set the girl upon. She wished Hawke had followed her more closely so he could light a fire for them, but she saw Dorian not far behind her and knew he could do it for her instead. He hurried forward when he saw her look at him, and he began working on lighting the fire with his magic.

“Ah, there you go, let’s get you nice and toasty,” he said with a small smile at the child.

“Dorian, can you check and see if she needs any healing while I get her some water?” Mara asked. She gave the child a soft smile and patted her on the head before she stood and went to search for their waterskins and rations.

“I’ll see what I can do, you know I’m not that good at healing,” he sighed. But he knelt beside the girl and summoned the soft glow of green healing magic, holding her wrists lightly as he focused. “Just in need of some food and water, it seems.”

“Good,” Mara crouched before the girl again and handed her a waterskin and the food she had grabbed for her. “Eat up, Mags, there’s a good girl.”

Magdalena gratefully accepted the food and water and began eating immediately. Mara sat watching her for a moment before she stood once more and looked around.

“Are you all right?” Varric asked from beside her.

She gave a humorless laugh. “Honestly I have no fucking clue,” she muttered.

“That’s understandable,” the dwarf was staring at the fire, looking equally at a loss.

Mara heard footsteps and glanced up to see Hawke and Isabela approaching. Isabela looked like she’d been crying, part of her kohl smeared around her eyes, and Hawke looked pale as a ghost, like a man walking to the gallows. He was staring at the young girl behind Mara, as if trying to take in her appearance and her mere existence.

“Mara – may I speak with you?” Isabela said, and Mara considered her for a moment before she nodded and followed the pirate away from camp. The other woman walked out of earshot of the others and turned back to face her, trepidation evident on her face. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be saying that to him,” Mara told her, folding her arms.

“I have,” Isabela agreed. “And I’m certain I’ll say it several more times, still. But you deserve an apology as well. For a lot of things.”

Mara stared at her but didn’t speak, unsure of what she could say.

“I’m sorry I lied. I told Hawke I panicked, being faced with you as soon as I arrived…I didn’t want to cause problems, but instead I just made this whole mess worse.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t help you if I knew we needed to rescue your daughter?” Mara asked.

“I didn’t know you, can you blame me?” Isabela countered. “I didn’t know if you would be the sort of woman who would hold her existence against me and not help. I couldn’t risk it.”

Mara pursed her lips and thought. “I suppose I can understand that,” she admitted. “I probably would have done the same. But you could have at least told Garrett.”

“I should have told him a lot of things,” Isabela confessed. “I hope – that is, please don’t hold this against him. He didn’t know, and that’s the truth.”

“I know it wasn’t, and I wasn’t planning on holding it against him,” Mara assured her. “I’m not even sure I’m holding it against you. I just wish you’d told me we were rescuing a child, Isabela. I put off coming here, I -”

“I know, I know,” the pirate sighed, her voice cracking slightly. “They’d given me plenty of time to get her back, though. They really wanted what they were trying to get out of me and weren’t in a rush to give up their collateral. I was trying to see if there was a way I could find more information, or handle it alone…I fucked up. I fucked up a lot of things. And I’m sorry.”

“What did they want?” Mara asked, curious despite the fact that it probably didn’t matter.

“The information that I passed on to you, actually,” Isabela shrugged. “I found out about the red lyrium and started sniffing around, trying to determine the source, trying to see what I could do about it. I was going to write to Varric, I knew he’d probably want to know about it.”

“But they got wind of it somehow?” Mara raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, and they wanted the information so they could try to take over the operation for themselves, make some money,” Isabela sighed. “When I refused, they threatened me. I didn’t think they were serious, and I trusted the wrong person…long story short, it was a mess. Before I knew it, Mags was gone and I had to try to track her down.”

“And when you needed our help?”

“Well, I needed Hawke’s help,” Isabela confessed. “I planned on telling him, I knew he would have moved mountains to rescue her if he knew. And then when it came time to tell him – I choked. I hadn’t planned on him being married, or meeting you, so instead I made it seem like I needed the Inquisition’s help. I knew you’d appreciate the information I had.”

“Is that really everything?”

“Yes,” Isabela sighed. “There’s no more secrets. I ran off five years ago when I found out I was with child. I was scared, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. I’d always thought I was the sort of woman who wouldn’t make that mistake, who wouldn’t forget to be careful. But even the best of us make mistakes.”

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Mara frowned, trying to understand.

“I didn’t want him to feel like he had to stay,” Isabela was looking at her almost pleadingly. “You know him, Mara. You know he would have, but he would have been miserable. I made him miserable, even though there was a time we loved each other. He wanted me to change, but I wanted him to change…”

Mara nodded as she listened to the other woman. She had figured that out from listening to Hawke talk about his past, but it was always easier to see these things from the outside looking in.

“You’re perfect for him,” Isabela mused after a long moment, bringing Mara out of her thoughts. “You have a tenderness in you that he’s always desperately needed, especially after everything that happened to him. I’m glad to see how happy you are together.”

Mara stared at the other woman, realizing that she meant it. “Thank you, Isabela.”

“I – I actually have one more thing to ask you,” the pirate sighed, looking back to where Magdalena and Hawke were sitting. Hawke was sitting beside his daughter, his knees pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them while he spoke to her.

“Another favor?” Mara raised her eyebrows skeptically.

“I suppose,” Isabela admitted. “Mara – my life, who I am…I’m not suited for motherhood. I’ve never wanted it. But Hawke – he needs a family. He deserves to have her in his life. I was wondering, would you -”

“Yes, Isabela,” Mara interrupted, knowing what she was asking without finishing the statement. “We’ll take her back with us to Skyhold. We’ll – we can raise her.”

Isabela gave her a slightly teary smile. “So long as I can pop in and out,” she said, and Mara gave her an affirmative nod. “Thank you, Mara. You’re…not what I expected, and I’m happy to find out I was wrong about you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, Isabela,” Mara smiled.

They stood for another moment before they turned and walked back to camp together to approach where Hawke and his daughter sat.

“Mama!” Magdalena cried, and she stood to run over to Isabela.

The pirate scooped her into her arms and gave her a hug. “I haven’t properly introduced you, love,” she said. She set the little girl down and walked her over to Hawke. “Remember when I told you stories about your papa, the great hero and Champion?”

Magdalena giggled and nodded, staring up at the pirate who held her hand.

“Well, Mags, this is him,” Isabela told her. “Mags, this is your father.”

Magdalena looked between Isabela and Hawke, and then a wide smile came across her face. “Papa?” she asked, looking at Hawke.

The look on his face brought tears to Mara’s eyes, and she pressed her fingers to her lips as a mixture of emotions overwhelmed her. She watched as her husband held his hand out to the little girl, as if he was going to shake it in introduction.

Instead, Magdalena hesitated only one more moment before she threw herself into his arms. “Mama told me so many stories, she said you’re a great hero!”

Hawke looked surprised for a moment and then wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight against him. He chuckled, seeming at a loss for words. His daughter pulled back and looked up at him, reaching a hand up to his beard and pulling it gently, as if curious and unable to resist. He gave a slight wince but continued chuckling.

“Would you like to go live with your papa?” Isabela asked softly. “He could tell you all of his stories himself.”

“Will you still come visit me?” the little girl looked up at her mother with wide eyes.

“Of course, dearest, and I’ll still take you out on my ship one day,” the pirate answered. “But instead of going back to Lady Virine’s, you can live with your papa and Mara.”

Magdalena turned her eyes to Mara, who managed to give her what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

“I always wanted to be with papa, and Mara seems nice,” the little girl answered, and she gave her father another hug. “I’d like that, mama.”

Isabela beamed, and Hawke glanced at Mara over his daughter's shoulder with an odd look in his eyes. It was somewhere between astonishment and joy, and the sight tugged at her heartstrings.


	34. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor processes her feelings and receives some assurances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> No, this fic is not over! I'm sorry for the hiatus, I've been away and then distracted but here's a quick chapter to let you know - this story is still continuing! There's plenty planned for these two (three?) and more will (gradually) be on the way.  
> Thank you if you're still reading! It means a lot <3  
> xx,  
> Lara

Magdalena had been put to bed, curled up in Isabela’s arms in her tent. It was interesting that for not being the maternal sort, she certainly seemed to love the child a great deal. They were sleeping peacefully, and for a while, Hawke stood in the mouth of the tent simply staring at his daughter.

Mara watched him from beside the fire, her mind still reeling. Varric and Dorian were trying to speak to her, even Iron Bull was telling stories and trying to make her laugh, but after a while she finally stood and excused herself.

She needed to be alone.

She needed to process.

She walked away into the trees, distracted and only half paying attention to where she was going, only guided by the meager moonlight. Her heart was beginning to ache, and she stopped at last at a small clearing. She sat on a fallen log and stared up at the stars, and let herself feel whatever emotions she needed to feel.

And so she began to sob.

And sob.

She couldn’t stop. She felt so foolish, and she hated herself. She felt like an idiot, she felt needy and jealous and she hated it. She hated this feeling. She hated that she couldn’t just be happy that in a way, things had actually worked out.

Isabela hadn’t been setting a trap. She hadn’t been trying to get Hawke to love her again. She hadn’t, actually, been trying to interfere at all. She’d simply made some mistakes and needed to make up for them. She had helped them, and in return they had helped her.

Mara wasn’t angry. She wasn’t even sure she felt upset that she’d been lied to by Isabela to get her here. She had helped rescue an innocent child, how could she be angry or regretful about that?

Not just an innocent child, her  _ husband’s _ child.

She sobbed harder as she thought it.

She hated this jealousy, this pettiness. But she realized what it was. The look on his face, the way he had seemed so joyful, so thoroughly, surprisingly content…

She had always thought she would see that proud, paternal look for the first time when he was looking at their child. Not his child with another woman. She had been looking forward to it, though she hated to admit it now. She had wanted to see him become a father with her, with their firstborn. Not like this, sprung on all of them and messy, with a child neither of them knew about. Not with the former lover who had sent him into a black hole of misery for years, who had almost made Mara walk away from him when she found out.

It hurt, and she hated that it hurt.

She couldn’t stop herself crying though. She couldn’t stop herself feeling like she had been deprived of an important moment in her life. She couldn’t stop herself feeling like she had been cheated, like she was going to miss out on something pivotal and meaningful.

She wasn’t sure how long she cried before she heard footsteps behind her, crunching the fallen leaves and the rocks and dirt on the ground.

“My love, are you all right?” she heard Hawke’s deep voice say from behind her.

She jumped a little and tried to wipe her cheeks, but her tears wouldn’t stop and there was no point in hiding it.

“Mara,” he murmured, and he came to kneel beside where she sat on the log. “Mara, please – love, talk to me.”

He was calling her love. He only ever did that when it was important, when he was actually feeling things too deeply to tease her and call her pet names. When he was uncertain whether or not she actually did love him, or if she was still his, when he was self-conscious and doubting.

She shook her head, still trying to wipe away her tears and take deep breaths. “I’m s-sorry, I’m just – I feel so petty,” she gasped. “I didn’t think I felt this way, but I-I’m j-jealous.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. “Honestly, love, you had me worried with how calm you were acting about it,” he said softly. “I understand – it’s all right, it’s understandable to feel this way.”

“I already care about her, I can’t help it,” she hiccupped. “Garrett, she’s adorable, she’s so sweet. And I-I’ll raise her. I just…I thought I’d see that look on your face for our children. I thought I’d be the one -”

But she began to cry harder and couldn’t finish her thought.

“My love, if you think I’m not going to still love our children, you’re crazy,” he whispered. He stroked her hair and pressed kisses to her forehead. “I know this has been a shock.  _ Believe me _ , I know, Mara. I’m still trying to accept it myself.”

“I know,” she murmured. “Are you all right?”

“I am,” he answered slowly. “I’m…I’ll be fine. It’s been a shock, but honestly…it’s been a good one. I know it’s hurting you but for me…Mara, so much makes sense now.”

She nodded against his chest, but it still stung. It still hurt to know he had a child with someone else. “Garrett, I never thought I’d feel this way,” she sighed. “I didn’t think I wanted marriage and children until you. I didn’t want any of those things until you, because you’re the only one for me. I just – I feel a bit cheated. I didn’t want these things, and now you already have one of them without me.”

“That’s not – no, love,” he held her more tightly to him. “The children that we have will still be special. I’ll still love them. But I’ll still love her. And I will  _ always _ love you.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered. She hated herself for her confessions. “I just – I’m jealous.”

“I know, I know,” he said, his tone soothing as he continued to stroke her hair and press his lips to her head.

“She looks just like you,” she breathed, and she smiled. She actually loved that. Magdalena was a sweet little version of Hawke, with his black hair, his deep sapphire blue eyes, an intelligent twinkle behind the eyes, and Mara wondered if she almost looked like Bethany must have. “Love I – I want you to have a family. And really, I’m happy. I’m just shocked. But I think – I think I’ll get over it. I think I’ll be fine.”

“You will be, because we’re still together,” he murmured, his lips against her hair. “We can overcome everything together. Even surprise parenthood.”

She giggled, and he chuckled, his chest reverberating against her ear with the deep sound.

“That’s better, little minx,” he said. “Now come on, let’s go to sleep. It’s been a long day.”


End file.
